BV  4315  .K55  1911 

Kerr,  Hugh  Thomson,  1871- 

1950. 
Children's  story-sermons 


7>^ 


children's  Story-Sermons 


WORKS  BY 

HUGH  T.  KERR,  D.D. 


Children!  s    Mission  ary  -  Story- 
Sernions.    12 mo,  cloth,  net  i.oo 

Told  in  simple,  yet  engrossing  fash- 
ion, the  story  of  missionary  heroism  be- 
comes in  his  capable  hands  a  realm  of 
veritable  romance  in  which  deeds  of 
knightly  valor  are  done  in  the  name  of 
the  great  king. 


Children's   Story-Sermons. 
i2mo,  cloth     .     .     .     net  i.oo 

"  The  story  sermons  are  so  attract- 
ive, so  simple,  so  full  of  action,  and  in- 
terest and  incident,  that  they  are  not 
only  good  to  read  aloud,  but  the  child 
will  be  glad  to  read  them  again  and 
again  by  himself." 

— Sunday  School  Times. 


/ 


Children's 
Story-Sermons 


By  , 
HUGH  T.  KERR 

Pastor  of  The  Fullerton  Avenue  Preshperian 
Churchy  Chicago 


New  York  Chicago  Toronto 

Fleming        H.     Revell      Company 
London  and  Edinburgh 


Copyright,  191 1,  by 
FLEMING   H.    REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  125  North  Wabash  Ave. 
Toronto:  25  Richmond  Street,  W. 
London:  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:      100    Princes    Street 


To 

My  two  Chums 
ANNA  and  THOMSON 


Foreword 

The  Story-Sermons  contained  in  this  book 
have  all  been  told  from  the  pulpit  of  the  Ful- 
lerton  Avenue  Presbyterian  Church,  Chicago, 
to  the  children  who  unfailingly  attend  the 
Sunday  morning  service.  They  are  pub- 
lished at  the  earnest  request  and  urgent 
solicitation  of  the  children  and  the  children's 
friends. 

The  greatest  work  in  the  world  is  the  in- 
terpretation of  God  to  the  soul  of  the  child. 
The  new  emphasis  which  child  culture  is  re- 
ceiving calls  for  increasing  effort  on  the  part 
of  the  pastor,  to  care  for  the  children  of  his 
church.  The  Sunday-school  is  insufficient. 
The  atmosphere  of  the  church  service  is  es- 
sential for  the  true  religious  development  of 
the  child.  The  pastor,  the  teacher,  and  the 
parent  must  be  workers  together  with  God. 

If  any  apology  were  needed  for  the  publi- 
cation of  another  volume  of  children's  story- 
sermons,  it  can  be  found  in  the  now  familiar 
words  of  Dr.  Stanley  Hall,  *'  Of  all  the  things 
that  a  teacher  should  know  how  to  do,  the 
most  important,  without  any  exception,  is  to 
know  how  to  tell  a  story." 
7 


8  Foreword 

All  that  the  present  collection  of  Story- 
Sermons  claims  to  do  is  to  bear  testimony  to 
the  fruitfulness  of  a  method  that  has  been 
tested  and  tried.  Little  that  is  original  will 
be  found  here,  but  much  that  is  familiar  will 
be  met  with,  and  there  is  some  satisfaction 
in  knowing  that  while  many  dry-as-dust  and 
discursive  sermons  have  been  forgotten,  many 
of  these  innocent  looking  sermons  have  been 
remembered  and  have  borne  fruit  that  is 
worth  while.  After  all,  the  Story-Sermon  is 
the  Master's  method,  for  "  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  like  unto " 

I  wish  to  express  my  indebtedness  to  my 
friend  Prof.  Thomas  C.  Blaisdell,  Ph.  D.,  of 
the  Michigan  Agricultural  College  for  his 
many  helpful  suggestions. 

H.  T.  K. 

Chicago,  III, 


Contents 


,„*.-^he  Story  of  Eager-Heart  (A  Christmas  Story) 

.       '3 

A  Boy  Who  was  a  Hero    .... 

i8 

X5od  Wants  Our  Best 
A  Boy  Who  was  a  Minister 

21 

24 

'>r  A  Man  Who  Forgot  His  Own  Name 

•          27 

^.^-What  Bradley  Owed 

•     30 

Now  I  Lay  Me  Down  to  Sleep 

.     32 

>r  The  Boy  Who  Made  Soap 

•       35 

Michael  Angelo  and  the  Child     . 

.       38 

A  Lion  Story-Sermon 

.      40 

A  Little  Boy's  Hard  Questions    . 

.       42 

^  Mendelssohn  and  the  Organ 

•      45 

"  ril  Take  What  Father  Takes  '* 

•       47 

A  Great  Christian  Soldier  . 
/^ h  Story  of  a  Powder  Mine 

.       50 

.       52 

Not  Ashamed  of  His  Mother     . 
■  "  God  and  Me  "      . 

.       54 

.       56 

A  Little  Girl's  Prayer 

.       58 

A  Story  About  Prayer 

.       60 

Hector  and  His  Little  Boy 

.       62 

A  Missionary  Story  . 

.      64 

A  Boy  Who  was  a  Bridge 

.      66 

The  Copper  That  Became  Gold 

68 

The  Scholar's  Prayer 

70 

Tongues  and  Ears     .... 

. 

72 

"^A  Lion  and  a  Little  Dog    . 

9 

•       74 

lO 


Contents 


Beware  of  the  Camel's  Nose 

11 

A  Little  Lost  Lamb  . 

80 

A  Rich  Lady's  Dream 

83 

The  Story  of  a  Bad  Boy    . 

85 

The  Hidden  Ring     . 

89 

A  Little  Lost  Bird     . 

91 

^he  Tree  on  the  Chimney  Top 
''    A  Child  Who  was  a  King 

94 

96 

Writing  With  Ink     . 

98 

A  Boy  Hero    .          .         .         . 

100 

Little  Shadi's  Prayer 

102 

The  Three  Golden  Apples 

104. 

The  Broken  Vase      . 

106 

^Who  Is  the  Prettiest  Girl  ? 
*''^^^^><rhe  Son  of  a  Soldier 
The  Prince  of  Wales 

108 

no 

112 

Little  Faithful  . 

114 

Fifty-Seven  Pennies  . 

116 

A  Little  Prison  Flower 

.     118 

^The  President  and  His  Mother 

.     121 

The  Story  of  a  Bell 

.     123 

A  Palace  of  Beautiful  Deeds 

.     126 

"  I  Gave  Gold  for  Iron  "  . 

.     129 

A  Blacksmith's  Boy  . 

•     132 

Keeping  the  Sabbath 

.     134 

She  Saw  the  King     . 

.     136 

What  Is  Love  ?         .         . 

.     139 

Only  One  Door 

.     141 

God's  Love  for  Us    . 

.     144 

Good  Money,  But  No  Good 

.     146 

The  Little  Missionary 

.     149 

The  Little  Peacemaker 

.     152 

Contents 


U 


Bobbie  Higgins 

The  Picture  that  Is  to  Be  . 

The  Prince  and  His  Garden 

A  Wise  Little  Girl    . 
^^wecter  Than  Honey- 
Boys  Who  are  Brave 

A  Little  Boy  and  an  Old  Lady- 
Only  a  Boy     . 
^     Worth  Twelve  Hundred  Dollars 

The  King's  Horses    . 
'  ^Thomas  Edison  and  Theodore 
'^The  Wonder  Ball  (A  Christmas 

Garibaldi  and  the  Lost  Lamb 
^^An  Easter  Story 

The  Children  of  a  King    . 

Dr.  Barnardo   . 

Follow  the  Leader    . 

Teeter-Totter  . 

The  Dark  Tunnel     . 

The  Three  Johns 

Sewing  Without  Thread    . 

The  Boy  Who  Promised    . 

The  Boy  Scout 

The  Sunday  Engine 


Story) 


'54 
157 
160 
163 
165 
168 

171 

173 
176 

179 
182 
184 
186 
189 
igi 
194 

'97 
200 
203 
207 
210 
212 
215 

2l8 


Children's  Story-Sermons 


The  Story  of  Eager-Heart 

(^  Christmas  Story) 

Away  back  in  the  olden  days  before  they 
had   cheap   shows    and  theatres   with  their 
bright  Ughts  and  doubtful  pictures,  where  for  a 
penny  or  two  an  hour's  ofttimes  questionable 
entertainment  may  be  had,  the  plain  people 
who  loved  to  see  shows  and  act  plays  and  at 
the   same   time   arrange   for  entertainments 
that  would  help  boys  and  girls  and  men  and 
women  to  be  better  than  they  were,  used  to 
makeup  what  they  called  miracle  plays  and 
mystery   plays.     The   difference   between   a 
miracle  play  and  a  mystery  play  was  this, 
that  a  miracle  play  always  had  to  do  with 
some   saint   whom   the   people  liked  to  re- 
member,  while  the  mystery  play  was  always 
about  the  Lord  Jesus  Himself.     One  of  the 
greatest  of  the  mystery  plays  is  what  is  called 
the  Passion  Play,  pictures  of  which  doubdess 
you  have  all  seen. 

One  of  these  mystery  plays  was  about 
13 


14  Children's  Story-Sermons 

Eager-Heart,  and  it  is  about  Eager-Heart 
that  I  want  to  tell  you.  Don't  you  think 
that  is  a  pretty  name  ?  Do  you  think  it  was 
the  name  of  a  man  or  a  woman,  or  a  boy  or 
a  girl,  or  a  horse  or  a  dog  or — well,  what  ? 
Shall  I  tell  you  ?  Eager-Heart  was  the  name 
of  a  beautiful  woman.  She  had  a  litde  home 
far  away  in  Germany.  Just  a  little  cottage 
home  in  a  little  village,  but  a  sweet  and 
happy  home  nevertheless.  Well,  it  happened 
that  the  people  of  that  village  all  expected 
the  Great  King  to  pass  through  their  town 
on  a  certain  night  and  every  one  was  on  the 
lookout  for  Him.  When  the  wonderful  night 
came  Eager-Heart  had  her  little  home  ready 
as  if  expecting  the  King  for  her  guest.  The 
lamp  was  lighted  and  the  food  was  ready, 
and  the  bed  was  all  prepared  with  beautiful, 
white,  clean  linen.  While  she  was  waiting 
some  one  came  to  the  door  and  her  heart  beat 
fast,  for  she  thought  that  perhaps  the  King  had 
arrived  and  that  He  had  come  to  her  humble 
home.  She  opened  the  door  quickly,  but  was 
so  disappointed,  for  there  at  the  door  stood  a 
poor,  tired,  cold  woodman  with  his  wife  and 
his  litde  shivering  boy.  They  asked  to  be 
taken  in  and  kept  over  the  night.  But 
Eager-Heart  said,  "  Oh,  not  to-night,  not  to- 
night.    I  am  expecdng  a  friend,  a  dear  friend, 


The  Story  of  Eager-Heart  15 

to-night ;  come  to-morrow  night  and  next 
night,  and  next  night  too,  but  not  to-night." 
Then  the  woodman,  with  a  look  of  disap- 
pointment, said,  **  That  is  what  they  all  say. 
No  one  will  let  us  stay  to-night.  Every  one 
is  expecting  a  guest  to-night,  and  there  is  no 
place  for  us."  Eager-Heart  was  about  to 
turn  away,  when  she  saw  the  face  of  the  little 
child  lifted  to  hers.  It  was  the  most  beautiful 
face  she  had  ever  seen,  and  the  next  moment 
the  three  weary  travellers  were  in  her  quiet, 
warm  home  and  the  little  child  was  lying  in 
the  bed  that  had  been  made  for  tne  King. 
Then  Eager-Heart,  having  made  them 
comfortable,  went  out  into  the  streets.  She 
was  so  disappointed.  She  had  had  a  dream 
that  the  King  might  perhaps  be  her  guest 
that  night,  and  now  it  could  never,  never  be. 
But  if  she  could  not  have  the  King  in  her 
own  home  she  would  go  out  to  meet  Him, 
and  so,  with  her  lamp  in  her  hand,  she  went 
out  into  the  streets  and  there  she  met  the 
shepherds  and  the  wise  men  searching  for  the 
King,  and  the  Christmas  star  was  leading 
them  through  the  streets  and  a  crowd  of 
people  were  anxiously  following.  So  Eager- 
Heart  followed  with  the  gathering  crowd,  and 
the  star  led  them  from  street  to  street  and 
from  house  to  house  until  at  last  it  led  them 


l6  Children's  Story-Sermons 

back  to  the  door  of  Eager-Heart's  own  home. 
"  Not  here,  not  here,"  said  Eager-Heart ;  "  it 
cannot  be  here ;  this  is  my  own  little  humble 
home."  But  the  wise  men  and  the  shep- 
herds said  that  it  must  be  that  the  King  was 
in  that  home  for  the  star  stood  low  above 
the  cottage,  and  so  Eager-Heart  opened 
the  door  and  what  a  sight  that  was  which 
she  saw !  The  little  home  was  all  ablaze 
with  light,  for  there  in  her  own  home  was  the 
Holy  Family  and  on  the  snow-white  bed  was 
the  infant  King.  She  fell  at  His  feet  and  wor- 
shipped and  wondered.  How  surprised  she 
was,  and  how  glad  she  was,  that  she  had 
opened  her  home  to  the  poor,  tired,  weary 
travellers.  I  feel  quite  sure  that  you  all  un- 
derstand the  story  and  know  what  it  means. 
I  am  half  afraid  to  try  to  tell  you  what  it 
means.  But  I  will  say  this :  Jesus  often 
comes  to  us  without  telling  us  who  He  is. 
He  wants  to  know  if  we  are  kind  and  sweet 
and  loving  to  others,  to  the  poor  and  to  the 
old  and  to  little  children,  and  He  tells  us  that 
when  we  are  kind  to  others  it  is  just  the 
same  as  if  we  were  kind  to  Him.  Some- 
times, too,  when  we  have  beautiful  thoughts 
and  see  beautiful  sights  and  hear  beautiful 
things  so  that  they  make  us  wish  to  be 
beautiful  in  our  own  lives,  I  think  it  is  Jesus 


The  Story  of  Eager-Heart  17 

who  has  come  into  our  hearts.  What  a  mis- 
take it  would  be  for  us  not  to  know  Him  and 
not  let  Him  in.  Let  us  all  be  Hke  Eager- 
Heart  and  let  Him  in. 


The  foxes  found  rest 

And  the  birds  their  nest, 
In  the  shade  of  the  forest  tree 

But  Thy  couch  was  the  sod, 

O  Thou  Son  of  God, 

In  the  deserts  of  Galilee ; 
O  come  to  my  heart,  Lord  Jesus, 
There  is  room  in  my  heart  for  Thee, 


II 

A  Boy  Who  Was  a  Hero 

Not  all  the  heroes  are  in  story-books. 
No,  indeed.  Some  of  them  are  living  quite 
close  to  us,  but  we  would  hardly  guess  that 
they  are  heroes,  because  a  real  hero  never 
tells  about  the  splendid  things  he  does.  A 
real  hero,  you  know,  always  keeps  his  hero- 
ism to  himself.  You  can  always  be  sure 
when  a  boy  tells  you  about  the  great  brave 
things  he  has  done  that  he  is  a  bully  and 
not  a  hero.  A  hero  never  talks  about  him- 
self. 

Here  is  a  real  hero  story.  It  is  about  a 
boy  who  ran  an  elevator  in  an  old  shaky, 
shackly  ofBce  building,  in  Philadelphia.  The 
people  who  knew  him  called  him  Billy.  He 
was  a  lean,  freckle-faced  boy,  with  red  hair, 
and  nobody  guessed  that  Billy  was  a  hero. 
But  he  was,  as  this  story  will  show.  One 
day  the  old  building  began  to  tremble  and 
shake,  and  then  one  of  the  walls  fell  out  and 
the  crowd  gathered  in  the  street  and  looked 
up  at  the  windows  of  the  building  where  the 
i8 


A  Boy  Who  Was  a  Hero  19 

men  and  women  and  litde  children  were,  and 
wondered  what  would  become  of  them.  But 
Billy  never  waited  to  wonder,  but  ran  his  old 
elevator  up  to  the  topmost  story  and  came 
back  with  it  crowded  with  frightened  women 
and  little  children.  He  did  that  a  second 
time,  and  a  third,  and  a  fourth,  and  a  fifth, 
and  a  sixth.  Up  and  down  he  went  for  nine 
times  until  only  one  side  of  the  building  was 
standing  and  the  shaft  of  the  elevator  was 
bare  and  was  swaying  to  and  fro  like  a  tree 
in  the  wind.  The  policemen  tried  to  drag 
the  boy  away  from  his  post,  and  the  great 
crowd  cried  for  him  to  stop,  but  he  pulled 
the  chain  and  began  to  rise  again  to  the 
upper  floor.  *'  There's  two  men  up  there 
yet,"  said  Billy,  and  away  he  went  to  the  top, 
facing  death  every  minute,  but  never  waiting 
to  guess  what  the  end  might  be.  Then 
through  the  cloud  of  dust  the  old  elevator 
was  seen  coming  down  and  in  it  there  were 
three  people.  As  it  touched  the  ground,  the 
other  wall  fell  out,  but  the  two  men  and  Billy 
came  out  into  the  street  unhurt.  You  should 
have  heard  the  people  cheer  1  They  knew 
then  that  Billy,  with  his  red  hair  and  his 
freckled  face,  was  a  hero,  and  they  wanted 
to  catch  him  and  carry  him  on  their  shoulders 
and  make  him  say  a  speech  and  take  up  a 


20  Children's  Story-Sermons 

collection  for  him,  but  Billy  could  not  be 
found  anywhere.  He  had  slipped  off  un- 
noticed through  the  crowd,  for  it  was  supper 
time,  and  he  had  gone  home  to  his  mother. 

This  story  does  not  need  any  sermon.  If 
it  did,  all  that  the  sermon  could  say  would 
be :  "  Do  things,  don't  talk  about  them.  Do 
brave,  kind,  heroic,  beautiful  things,  not  be- 
cause people  see  you,  but  because  you  are  a 
hero  at  heart  and  because  there  are  brave, 
kind,  heroic,  beautiful  things  to  be  done,  and 
because  God  sees  you.'* 


Ill  V/^      *^ 

God  Wants  Our  Best 

What  would  you  think  of  a  boy  who  kept 
an  apple  until  it  was  rotten  before  he  tried  to 
eat  it  ?  What  would  you  think  of  a  girl  who 
kept  a  rose  until  it  wilted  and  faded  before 
she  tried  to  wear  it  ?  What  would  you  think 
of  a  man  who  bought  an  automobile  and 
never  used  it  until  it  rusted  ?  What  would 
you  think  of  boys  and  girls  who  waited  until 
they  were  men  and  women  before  giving 
their  hearts  to  the  Lord  Jesus?  This  is  a 
story  of  a  girl  who  did  just  that  very  thing. 
She  thought  she  was  not  old  enough,  and 
she  wished  to  have  what  she  called  a  good 
time  before  she  became  a  Christian.  That 
was  very  foolish,  as  I  will  try  to  show  you. 

The  girl's  name  was  Margaret,  and  she 
lived  in  the  great  city  of  St.  Louis,  where 
she  had  many  friends  and  many  places  to  go. 
One  day  her  mother,  whom  she  loved  dearly, 
became  ill, — very  ill — and  they  had  to  call  a 
nurse.  The  nurse  was  a  very  beautiful 
young  lady  and  a  lovely  Christian,  and  she 

21 


22  Children's  Story-Sermons 

soon  became  much  interested  in  Miss  Mar- 
garet and  her  winning  ways,  and  wondered 
why  she  had  never  given  herself  to  the  Lord 
Jesus.  So  she  made  up  her  mind  that  some 
day  before  she  left  she  would  talk  to  her 
about  it.  After  her  mother  was  much  better, 
a  friend  sent  in  a  bouquet  of  beautiful  white 
carnations,  and  the  nurse,  who  had  been 
waiting  for  the  best  chance  to  speak  to  her 
little  friend,  said  to  her  :  "  I  think  we  will  not 
take  these  flowers  to  your  mother  just  now. 
They  are  so  fresh  and  sweet  and  beautiful. 
Let  us  keep  them  here  for  a  few  days,  and 
then  we  can  take  them  to  her  room."  Mar- 
garet's eyes  opened  wide  and  she  looked  at 
the  nurse  to  see  what  she  really  meant. 

The  nurse  was  getting  the  vase  and  the 
water  for  the  flowers,  and  Margaret  became 
very  angry  and  indignant  and  told  the  nurse 
that  she  should  do  no  such  thing,  but  should 
take  the  beautiful  flowers  to  her  darling 
mother  immediately.  Without  saying  any 
more  about  the  flowers  and  with  the  sweetest 
of  smiles,  the  nurse  put  her  arm  around 
Margaret  and  said  :  *'  Yes,  I  think  too  that 
mother  ought  to  have  the  flowers  when  they 
are  sweetest  and  freshest,  and  we  will  take 
them  to  her  soon ;  but  don't  you  think  also 
that  God  ought  to  have  your  life  when  it  is 


God  Wants  Our  Best  23 

at  its  best  ?  And  yet  you  are  keeping  your 
beautiful  young  life  from  Him  and  waiting 
until  you  are  older,  and  then  you  think  you 
will  be  willing  to  give  Him  some  of  the  days 
that  are  not  your  very  best." 

Do  you  think  that  was  a  good  sermon  ? 
I  know  it  was,  but  it  didn't  sound  one  little 
bit  like  a  sermon,  and  I  am  not  surprised  in 
the  least  that  Margaret  immediately  saw 
what  the  nurse  meant  and  that  very  day 
gave  iier  heart  to  Jesus.  We  are  never  too 
young  to  love  Him,  and  boys  and  girls 
should  learn  to  love  Jesus  just  as  sweetly  and 
just  as  surely  and  just  as  early  as  they  learn 
to  love  their  own  fathers  and  mothers  in 
their  own  homes. 


IV 

A  Boy  Who  Was  a  Minister 

This  is  a  missionary  story.  I  have  often 
read  it,  and  I  know  it  is  true.  It  happened 
in  a  little  village,  in  an  out-of-the-way  corner 
of  India,  where  a  missionary  had  gone  to 
baptize  sixty  or  seventy  men  and  women  and 
to  form  them  into  a  Christian  church. 

When  the  service  began  the  missionary 
noticed  a  boy  about  twelve  years  of  age,  sit- 
ting away  back  in  the  corner  of  the  building, 
looking  very  much  interested  and  listening 
with  all  his  might.  After  he  had  baptized 
and  received  into  the  church  all  the  grown- 
up men  and  women  who  had  professed  their 
faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  as  their  Saviour,  he 
was  surprised  to  see  this  boy  come  forward 
and  stand  in  front  of  the  pulpit.  The  mis- 
sionary said  to  him,  **  What,  my  lad,  do  you 
want  to  unite  with  the  church  and  sit  down  to 
the  Lord's  Supper?"  The  boy  said,  ''Yes, 
sir."  The  missionary  looked  at  him  lov- 
ingly, and  said,  "  But  you  are  very  young, 
and  I  know  nothing  about  you,  and  no  one 
24 


A  Boy  Who  Was  a  Minister         25 

has  taught  you  about  the  Christian  faith,  and 
after  a  while  you  may  grow  careless  and 
indifferent.  Perhaps  it  will  be  better  for  you 
to  wait.  I  will  be  here  again  in  less  than  a 
year,  and  if  during  that  time  you  will  study 
hard  and  prepare  yourself,  then,  if  you  wish 
to  unite  with  the  church,  I  will  receive  you 
gladly."  The  boy  said  nothing,  but  turned 
away  to  his  seat  with  a  very  sad  heart, 
and  the  missionary  saw  that  he  was  very, 
very  much  disappointed.  Before  the  little 
fellow  reached  his  seat,  the  missionary  saw 
all  the  people  standing  up  and  they  all 
began  to  talk  at  once^  After  a  litde  they 
allowed  one  man  to  speak  for  the  rest,  and 
he  said  :  **  Why,  sir,  this  boy  has  taught  us 
all  we  know  about  Jesus."  And  what  he 
said  proved  to  be  the  truth.  That  boy  had 
learned  the  story  of  the  Gospel  at  a  mission 
school  in  a  distant  village,  and  had  returned 
to  his  heathen  home  to  tell  the  story  of  Jesus 
to  his  own  people  and  to  his  friends.  He 
read  to  them  out  of  the  New  Testament  un- 
til they  too  gave  their  hearts  to  God  and 
were  led  to  Jesus.  So  you  see  this  little  lad 
was  really  the  minister  of  the  village. 

Of  course,  I  do  not  think  that  boys  should 
preach  like  grown-up  men,  but  I  am  sure  if 
they  love  Jesus  and  live  as  He  would  like  to 


26  Children's  Story-Sermons 

have  them  live,  kind  and  obedient  and  true, 
that  they  will  be  able  to  do  more  for  Him 
than  they  could  do,  even  if  they  were  able  to 
preach  great,  long,  eloquent  sermons.  You 
know  the  Bible  says,  **  A  little  child  shall  lead 
them."  I  want  you  to  remember  this  verse 
for  the  text.  I  have  known  fathers  and 
mothers  with  whom  ministers  and  Sunday- 
school  teachers  and  elders  and  deacons 
seemed  to  have  no  influence,  who  were  led 
to  Jesus  by  their  own  little  boy  or  girl.  We 
sing  sometimes,  "  Jesus  wants  me  for  a  sun- 
beam," and  I  think  a  sunbeam  is  the  most 
beautiful  and  most  useful  thing  in  all  the 
world. 


V 

A  Man  Who  Forgot  His  Own  Name     '^ 

The  other  day  the  newspapers  were  full  of 
the  strangest  story  I  think  I  ever  heard.  It 
was  the  story  of  a  man  who  forgot  his  own 
name,  and  forgot  his  friends  and  his  home 
and  his  loved  ones  and  wandered  away 
farther  and  farther,  day  after  day,  and  didn't 
know  that  he  was  lost  and  didn't  know  where 
he  was  going.  He  was  not  a  poor,  good-for- 
nothing  man  either,  but  was  a  man  whom 
everybody  in  the  city  knew — a  lawyer  and  a 
judge.  He  wandered  far  away  into  the 
country,  living  on  little  or  nothing,  begging 
for  work,  refusing  to  sit  at  the  table  with 
other  people,  and  satisfied  to  eat  just  like  a 
common,  ordinary  tramp.  At  last  he  found 
work,  very  humble  work,  and  was  satisfied. 

All  this  time  his  wife  and  friends  were 
worrying  about  him  and  thought  he  must  be 
dead.  But  he  had  one  friend  who  refused  to 
think  he  was  dead,  and  who  searched  for  him 
day  and  night.  At  last  he  discovered  traces 
of  him,  and  one  morning  visited  the  factory 
27 


28  Children's  Story-Sermons 

where  the  lost  man  was  sitting  at  a  table 
making  pearl  buttons  out  of  clam  shells. 
Without  waiting  a  moment,  he  went  up  to 
him  and  called  him  by  his  right  name,  and 
immediately  the  lost  man  recognized  his 
friend,  and  knew  where  he  was  and  remem- 
bered about  his  home.  You  can  imagine  how 
strange  he  felt,  and  how  quickly  he  went 
with  his  friend,  and  how  glad  he  was  to  get 
back  to  his  own  home  and  to  his  dear  family. 
Somewhere  in  the  Bible  I  have  read  a  story 
something  like  this  newspaper  story.  It  is 
about  a  young  man  who  left  home  one  day, 
and  never  said  where  he  was  going,  or  what 
he  was  going  to  do,  or  when  he  would  come 
back.  He  was  rich  and  had  beautiful  clothes 
and  many  friends,  but  his  money  was  soon 
spent  and  his  good  clothes  soon  became 
ragged,  and  the  only  work  he  could  find  was 
with  a  stranger  who  sent  him  out  into  the 
fields  to  feed  the  pigs.  One  day  when  he 
was  in  the  field  all  alone,  hungry  and  thirsty, 
he  thought  he  heard  some  one  call  his  name. 
He  looked  up  and  down  and  behind  him  and 
all  around,  but  could  see  no  one.  He  was 
sure  he  heard  some  one  call  his  name,  and 
the  story  says,  *'  He  came  to  himself,"  just 
like  the  man  who  was  making  the  pearl 
buttons.     Then  he  knew  where  he  was,  and 


A  Man  Who  Forgot  His  Own  Name    29 

without  waiting  to  say  good-bye  he  hur- 
ried home,  and  sure  enough,  his  father  was 
standing  at  the  gate  waiting  and  watching 
for  him. 

You  remember  it  was  Jesus  who  told  that 
story,  and  He  told  it  to  us  so  that  we  would 
understand  that  when  we  forget  God  and  run 
away  from  Him  we  forget  our  own  true 
name  and  run  away  from  our  best  Friend. 


What  Bradley  O^Jv^ed 

His  name  was  Bradley.  They  called  him 
Tiddley,  because  when  he  was  young  he  was 
so  little  and  tiny.  He  was  only  about  eight 
years  old,  with  light  hair  and  blue  eyes  and 
a  sunny  smile,  but  he  had  gotten  into  a  bad 
habit  of  counting  everything  as  worth  so 
much  money.  Now,  that  is  the  worst  possi- 
ble thing  for  a  little  boy,  for  there  are  lots 
of  things  that  money  cannot  buy.  Money 
can't  buy  the  very  best  things,  as  this  story 
will  show  you. 

One  morning  when  Bradley  came  down  to 
breakfast,  he  put  on  his  mother's  plate  a 
little  piece  of  paper  neatly  folded.  His 
mother  opened  it,  and  what  do  you  think 
was  on  it  ?  She  could  hardly  believe  it,  but 
this  is  what  Bradley  had  written  there : 

Mother  owes  Bradley : 

For  running  errands     .     .  25  cents 

For  being  good  ....  10     " 

For  taking  music  lessons  .  15     " 

Extras 5     *< 

Total  ....     55     ** 
30 


What  Bradley  Owed  31 

His  mother  smiled,  but  did  not  say  any- 
thing and  when  lunch  time  came  she  placed 
the  bill  on  Bradley's  plate  with  fifty-five  cents. 
Bradley's  eyes  fairly  danced  when  he  saw  the 
money  and  thought  his  business  abiUty  had 
been  quickly  rewarded,  but  with  the  money 
there  was  another  little  bill,  which  read  like  this : 

Bradley  owes  mother  : 

For  being  good  to  him      .     Nothing 
For   nursing  him  through 

his     long    illness    with 

scarlet  fever     ....     Nothing 
For  clothes  and  shoes  and 

gloves  and  playthings     .     Nothing 
For  all  his  meals  and  his 

beautiful  room     .     .      .     Nothing 


Total  that  Bradley 

owes  mother  .     .     Nothing 

Now,  what  do  you  think  that  boy  did  after 
he  read  those  words  ?  Do  you  think  he  put 
the  fifty-five  cents  in  his  pocket  and  went  off 
whistling  ?  I  am  sure  you  know  better  than 
that.  The  tears  came  into  Bradley's  eyes, 
and  he  put  his  arms  around  his  dear  mother's 
neck  and  put  his  little  hand  with  the  fifty-five 
cents  in  hers,  and  said,  **  Take  the  money  all 
back,  mamma,  and  let  me  love  you  and  do 
things  for  nothing."  Now  this  is  a  story  and 
it  has  no  text  and  there  is  no  sermon,  but  I 
think  you  know  what  it  means. 


VII  I 

Now  I  Lay  Me  Down  to  Sleep 

I  READ  a  Story  the  other  day  in  the  news- 
papers about  a  little  boy  and  his  father,  and 
I  want  to  tell  it  to  you.  I  think  it  is  a  very 
interesting  story  and  perhaps  some  of  the 
fathers  of  some  of  the  children  might  also 
like  to  hear  it.  This  boy  lived  down  in 
Ohio,  near  Columbus.  He  was  about  eight 
years  old.  His  name  was  Edward,  and  he 
was  a  great  chum  of  his  father.  His  father 
was  a  travelling  man  and  went  into  the  city 
very  often.  He  promised  his  little  chum 
that  some  day  he  would  take  him  along. 

So  one  day  they  started  off  together,  the 
father  carrying  his  big  heavy  grip,  and  the 
boy  carrying  a  little  toy  grip  just  to  make 
believe  that  he  too  was  travelling  with  his 
father  in  the  business.  They  went  to  the  big 
city,  and  when  the  hour  came  for  the  boy  to 
go  to  bed  his  father  took  him  up  to  the  room 
and  tucked  him  in.  He  answered  all  the 
boy's  questions  about  the  room  and  the  pic- 
tures, and  the  lights  and  the  bed  and  the 
bell — especially  about  the  bell.  Then  his 
32 


Now  I  Lay  Me  Down  to  Sleep       33 

father  kissed  him  good-night  and  went 
down-stairs  to  finish  the  business  that  he 
had  to  do.  He  had  scarcely  reached  the 
main  hall  when  he  heard  the  office  boys  run- 
ning hither  and  thither  and  the  bells  ring- 
ing as  if  every  person  in  the  hotel  had  gone 
mad.  Of  course  the  father  knew  it  was  his 
boy  that  was  ringing  and  started  for  the 
room,  but  before  he  got  there  one  of  the  bell- 
boys had  reached  the  door  and  there  was  the 
little  chap  standing  on  the  floor  in  his  night* 
dress.  His  father  heard  him  saying  to  the 
bell-boy,  "  Man,  send  some  one  to  me,  to 
whom  I  can  say  my  prayers,  and  be  quick 
about  it,  for  I  want  to  go  to  sleep."  You 
see  the  father  had  not  been  used  to  putting 
the  litde  lad  to  bed.  His  mother  would  not 
have  forgotten,  I  am  quite  sure  of  that,  and 
the  boy  didn't  forget.  It  didn't  matter  to 
him  that  he  was  in  a  great  hotel  and  in  a 
great  strange  city.  He  had  been  taught  to 
say  his  prayers,  and  you  don't  wonder  that 
when  the  story  was  printed  in  all  the  papers 
the  people  liked  to  read  it  and  the  boy's 
father  was  not  a  bit  ashamed  of  his  little 
chum's  courage. 

Boys  who  pray  with  their  fathers  always 
make  good  boys.  If  your  father  is  your 
chum  (and  I  hope  he  is),  and  you  tell  him 


34  Children's  Story-Sermons 

all  your  secrets,  as  I  hope  you  do,  I  know 
that  he  and  you  must  often  pray  together. 
The  boy  and  the  father  who  do  not  pray  to- 
gether will  soon  cease  to  be  chums.  I  think 
the  very  first  time  I  saw  my  father's  face — at 
least,  the  first  time  I  can  remember  seeing  it 
— was  one  day  when  I  was  just  a  little  lad 
three  or  four  years  old  when  he  prayed  with 
me  because  I  had  done  something  wrong. 
Here  is  a  little  prayer  for  you :  we  will  call  it 

The  Lord's  Prayer 

Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven ; 

Hallowed  be  Thy  name, 

Thy  kingdom  come, 

Thy  will  be  done, 
In  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven. 

Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread : 

And  forgive  us  our  debts. 

As  we  forgive  our  debtors. 

And  lead  us  not  into  temptation, 
But  deliver  us  from  evil  : 

For  thine  is  the  kingdom, 
And  the  power, 
And  the  glory, 

For  ever. 
\  Amen. 


The  Boy  Who  Made  Soap 

Samuel  was  his  name.  Before  I  get  through 
I'll  tell  you  his  other  name,  and  when  I  tell  it 
to  you  I  think  you  will  know  it,  for  every  one 
in  the  east  and  west  and  the  north  and  the 
south  I  feel  sure  knows  it. 

At  the  time  my  story  begins,  he  was  six- 
teen years  old.  He  was  leaving  home  to 
find  work.  In  his  hand  he  carried  a  bundle 
which  contained  everything  that  he  owned. 
He  had  not  gone  far  until  he  met  an  old 
friend,  who,  when  he  found  out  where  the 
boy  was  going,  said:  *'Be  sure  you  start 
right,  lad,  and  you  will  get  along  fine.*' 
Samuel  told  him  that  the  only  thing  he 
could  do  was  to  make  soap  and  to 
make  candles.  He  had  learned  that  at 
home.  "Well,"  said  the  old  canal  boat 
captain,  "let  me  pray  with  you  before 
you  go,  and  then  I'll  give  you  a  little  ad- 
vice." And  so  they  knelt  down  there  in  the 
open  air,  and  the  old  man  prayed  for  the  boy 
and  asked  God  to  take  good  care  of  him  and 
guide  him  in  the  great  city.  When  they  sat 
35 


36  Children's  Story-Sermons 

down  together  again,  the  old  man  said  to  the 
boy :  **  Some  one  will  soon  be  the  leading 
soap  maker  in  New  York.  It  can  be  you  as 
well  as  any  one.  I  hope  it  may.  Be  a  good 
boy,  give  your  heart  to  Christ,  give  the  Lord 
all  that  belongs  to  Him  of  every  dollar  you 
earn,  make  an  honest  soap,  give  a  full  pound, 
and  Fm  certain  that  you  will  be  a  rich  man." 
He  left  the  man  and  went  to  the  great 
city,  where  he  found  it  hard  to  get  work. 
Remembering  the  words  of  his  friend,  he 
united  with  the  church  and  the  first  dollar  he 
earned  he  gave  ten  cents  of  it  to  the  Lord. 
After  a  while  he  secured  regular  work,  and  in 
time  became  a  partner  and  then  the  owner 
of  the  business.  He  still  followed  the  old 
captain's  advice,  and  while  his  business  grew 
and  he  prospered,  he  gave  a  tenth  of  all  his 
income  to  the  Lord.  Then  he  gave  two- 
tenths,  and  still  he  prospered  more  than  be- 
fore. Then  three-tenths,  then  four-tenths, 
then  five-tenths,  and  after  he  had  educated 
his  family  and  settled  his  life's  plans,  he  gave 
all  his  income  away.  His  business  grew, 
and  I  suppose  is  still  growing  in  the  hands 
of  others,  but  before  he  died  he  had  given 
millions  of  dollars  to  the  Lord.  His  name 
was  Colgate — Samuel  Colgate — and  when- 
ever you  read  that  name  on  soaps  and  per- 


The  Boy  Who  Made  Soap  37 

fumes  and  toilet  articles,  you  will  perhaps  re- 
member this  story  about  the  boy  who  gave 
his  heart  to  Jesus,  and  who  tried  to  live  as 
God  wanted  him  to  live. 

Now  here  is  the  sermon  : 

First,  give  yourself  to  God. 

Second,  give  God  all  that  belongs  to  Him. 

Third,  give  other  people  all  that  belongs 
to  them. 

Fourth,  make  all  the  money  you  can,  save 
all  you  can,  and  give  away  all  you  can. 


IX 

Michael  Angelo  and  the  Child 

A  LONG  while  ago  in  that  beautiful  city  of 
flowers  which  we  call  Florence,  there  lived 
a  great  artist  whose  name  was  Michael 
Angelo.  He  was  known  all  over  the  world 
because  of  his  wonderful  skill  in  drawing  and 
painting  and  carving.  It  was  he  who  drew 
the  plans  for  St.  Peter's  in  Rome,  the  greatest 
church  in  the  world.  He  was  a  painter  and 
a  sculptor,  and  an  architect  and  a  poet,  and 
a  great,  good  man. 

The  Pope  had  pleaded  with  him  to  do 
some  work  for  him,  and  kings  and  emperors 
had  offered  him  great  sums  of  money  for  a 
single  work  of  art.  One  day  a  litde  child 
waited  in  one  of  the  streets  of  Florence  to 
meet  Michael  Angelo,  who  went  that  way 
from  his  home  to  his  study.  The  little  child 
had  in  his  hands  a  large  sheet  of  white  paper, 
for  he  expected  to  ask  the  artist  to  draw  him 
a  picture.  His  playmates  laughed  at  him, 
and  thought  he  was  foolish  to  ask  such  a 
great  man  to  do  such  a  little  thing,  but  he 
would  not  be  turned  from  his  purpose  and 

38 


Michael  Angelo  and  the  Child        39 

when  the  artist  came  up  he  offered  him  his 
sheet  of  paper  and  asked  him  to  draw  some- 
thing on  it.  The  great  man,  who  had  done 
so  many  wonderful  things,  was  pleased  with 
the  litde  child's  request  and  sitting  down  in 
the  street  beside  him,  he  drew  on  the  paper 
a  picture  that  dehghted  the  boy's  heart. 
That  was  what  the  little  lad  wanted,  and  he 
went  home  happy. 

The  story  doesn't  tell  whether  or  not  he 
thanked  the  artist  for  his  work,  but  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  he  was  so  happy  in 
his  heart  that  he  forgot  all  about  it.  But, 
after  all,  that  is  the  best  way  of  saying 
"Thank  you,"  and  the  man  who  drew  the 
picture  surely  understood.  Jesus  told  us 
that  if  we  asked  anything.  He  would  give 
it  to  us ;  that  is,  if  we  asked  things  that  were 
right  and  that  He  would  want  us  to  have. 
Let  us  not  be  afraid  to  ask  Jesus  for  the 
things  which  we  need.  He  is  very  great, 
and  perhaps  we  are  very  small,  but  He  is 
always  pleased  to  have  little  children  ask 
Him  for  the  things  their  hearts  desire.  He  is 
more  willing  to  give  than  we  are  to  ask. 


A  Lion  Story-Sermon 

Do  you  know  that  in  the  city  of  London 
there  is  a  lion  sermon  preached  every  year  ? 
Isn't  that  a  strange  thing  ?  Lots  of  sermons 
are  lion  sermons  to  little  children — they  are 
so  long  and  so  loud.  I  knew  a  litde  girl  who 
said  that  the  minister  preached  so  long  that 
she  couldn't  keep  awake  and  he  preached  so 
loud  that  she  couldn't  go  to  sleep — but  this 
is  a  real  lion  sermon.  It  is  preached  in  one 
church,  and  is  always  preached  on  the  same 
day,  the  sixteenth  day  of  October.  It  has  been 
preached  in  that  same  church,  St.  Catherine 
Cree,  every  year  for  two  hundred  and  fifty 
years.  A  sum  of  money  was  set  aside  at  that 
time  so  that  gifts  could  be  given  to  the  poor 
people  every  year  on  the  sixteenth  day  of 
October,  and  that  a  sermon  should  be 
preached  which  would  tell  the  story  of  God's 
great  care  and  of  the  power  of  prayer.  This 
is  the  story : 

Sir  John  Gayer  was  at  one  time  Lord 
Mayor  of  London.  He  was  a  great  traveller, 
and  while  in  Asia,  going  through  a  desert 
40 


A  Lion  Story-Sermon  4I 

place,  he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  a 
great,  strong,  fierce-looking  lion.  He  was 
all  alone,  for  the  rest  of  his  company  had 
gone  on  ahead.  He  was  a  good  man  and  a 
Christian,  and  knew  that  if  he  was  to  be 
saved  God  alone  could  help  him.  He 
thought  about  Daniel,  and  how  God  had 
kept  him  safe  in  the  lion's  den,  and  so  right 
there  in  the  middle  of  the  path  he  fell  down 
upon  his  knees  and  asked  God  to  take  care 
of  him  and  save  him  from  the  dreadful  lion. 
When  he  had  finished  his  prayer  and  opened 
his  eyes,  he  was  all  alone.  The  lion  was 
gone.  He  never  saw  it  again,  and  rising 
from  his  knees  he  went  forward  and  joined 
the  company  from  which  he  had  been 
separated.  I  suppose  the  lion  was  so  fright- 
ened when  he  saw  this  man  on  his  knees  that 
he  just  scampered  off. 

You  know  there  is  a  hymn  that  says  that 
Satan  flees  when  he  sees  the  weakest  saint 
upon  his  knees.  If  God  could  take  care  of 
Daniel,  He  could  also  take  care  of  the  Lord 
Mayor  out  in  the  desert  in  Asia,  and  He  did. 
God  took  care  of  the  great  missionary, 
Livingstone,  after  the  savage  lion  had  broken 
his  arm  in  its  cruel  jaws.  Let  us  not  be 
afraid   to  pray  anywhere  and   everywhere. 


XI      V^^ 

A  Little  Boy's  Hard  Questions 

Once  upon  a  time — I  think  that's  the  way 
to  begin  this  story — a  little  boy  whose  name 
was  William  asked  his  mother  some  very 
hard  and  troublesome  questions.  Of  course, 
that  is  nothing  to  wonder  at,  for  every  litde 
boy  and  girl  can  ask  hard  questions  that  no- 
body can  answer,  and  this  little  fellow  was 
no  exception.  His  parents  were  not  Chris- 
tians. They  didn't  go  to  church  and  they 
didn't  pray,  but  they  wanted  William  to  go 
to  Sunday-school  and  taught  him  to  say  the 
prayer  that  they  had  said  when  they  were 
little  children : 

"  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 

I  pray  Thee,  Lord,  my  soul  to  keep, 

If  I  should  die  before  I  wake, 

I  pray  Thee,  Lord,  my  soul  to  take." 

And  then  he  would  add  some  little  words 
of  his  own,  just  as  other  children  do  : 

"  God  bless  papa, 
God  bless  mamma, 
God  bless  Willie,  and  make  him  to  be  a  good  boy.** 

42 


A  Little  Boy's  Hard  Questions        43 

One  night  after  he  had  said  his  prayer  and 
kissed  his  mother  good-night,  he  looked  up 
into  her  face,  and  said  :  "  Mamma,  do  you 
pray  ?  "  **  No,  darling,"  she  said.  '*  Does 
papa  pray?"  "I  never  heard  him  pray," 
said  his  mother.  "  Then  why  do  you  make 
me  pray?"  he  said.  "So  that  you  may  be 
a  good  boy."  **  Don't  you  want  to  be  good, 
mamma  ?  "  he  said.  *'  Oh,  yes,  I  want  to  be 
good."  "Don't  papa  want  to  be  good?" 
he  asked.  "  Oh,  I  think  so."  "  Then  why 
don't  you  and  papa  both  pray,  too?"  he 
asked.  She  was  not  quite  ready  to  answer 
that  hard  question,  and  the  little  lad  went  on 
talking.  "  Well,  mamma,"  said  he,  "  I  guess 
God  will  hear  the  prayer  of  a  little  boy  like 
me,  but  don't  you  think  you  and  papa  ex- 
pect too  much  of  such  a  little  fellow  ?  Do 
you  think  that  God  wants  me  to  do  all  the 
praying  for  this  whole  family  ?  It  seems  to 
me  that  you  and  papa  might  help  me  a 
little."  But  he  was  growing  sleepy,  and  he 
was  soon  far  off  in  the  land  of  nod. 

He  didn't  think  of  it  any  more,  perhaps, 
and  he  never  asked  those  hard  questions 
again.  Indeed,  he  didn't  need  to  ask  them 
again,  for  the  father  and  mother  that  night 
after  he  was  sound  asleep  talked  about  it 
and  came  and   knelt  by  his   bed  and  gave 


44  Children's  Story-Sermons 

their  hearts  to  God  Uke  little  children,  and 
prayed  that  God  would  answer  their  little 
boy's  prayer. 

So  you  see  that  hard  questions  sometimes 
are  good  questions.  God  doesn't  want  little 
children  to  be  the  only  ones  to  pray.  He 
wants  fathers  and  mothers,  and  brothers  and 
sisters,  and  grandfathers  and  grandmothers 
all  to  pray  to  Him,  for  He  is  our  Friend  and 
He  loves  to  have  us  speak  to  Him. 


xn 

Mendelssohn   and  the  Organ 

Felix  Mendelssohn.  How  would  you 
like  that  for  a  name  ?  Isn't  that  the  strang- 
est name  you  ever  heard  ?  Well,  I'm  going 
to  tell  you  a  story  about  Felix  Mendelssohn. 
You  know  he  was  one  of  the  great  musicians 
of  the  world.  His  beautiful  music  is  loved 
and  played  wherever  people  love  and  play 
music.  Perhaps  some  of  the  boys  and  girls 
who  are  taking  music  lessons  are  acquainted 
with  some  of  the  music  he  has  written. 

One  day  he  went  to  visit  an  old  cathedral 
where  there  was  a  very  wonderful  organ. 
He  had  often  heard  about  the  organ  in  the 
old  cathedral  of  Freiburg,  and  often  wished 
that  he  might  be  able  to  play  on  it.  So  one 
day  he  travelled  to  the  little  town,  and  enter- 
ing into  the  cathedral,  found  the  old  man 
who  took  charge  of  everything  around  the 
church.  He  asked  permission  to  play  for  a 
little  while  on  the  old  organ,  but  the  eld  man 
just  shook  his  head,  and  said,  "  No,  no,  no, 
that  could  never  be," — no  stranger  could 
ever  be  permitted  to  play  on  that  wonderful 
45 


46         Children's  Story-Sermons 

instrument.  Mendelssohn  talked  so  long 
and  so  lovingly  about  the  organ  and  begged 
so  hard  to  be  allowed  to  play  on  it  just  for  a 
litde  while,  that  at  last  the  old  man  gave  his 
consent  and  the  great  musician  opened  it  up 
and  began  to  play.  The  man  listened,  and 
then  the  great  cathedral  was  filled  with  mel- 
ody. It  sang  on  and  on  and  on,  and  never 
in  all  his  life  had  he  heard  the  great  organ 
play  such  wonderful  music.  His  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  and  laying  his  hand  upon  the 
stranger's  shoulder,  he  asked  his  name. 
When  he  heard  the  name  "  Mendelssohn," 
the  old  man  drew  back  and  through  the 
tears  that  were  still  falling,  he  said  :  ♦*  And  I 
refused  to  let  you  play  on  my  organ ! " 

Now,  boys  and  girls,  your  life  and  mine  is 
just  like  a  great  musical  instrument.  It  is 
here  in  the  world  to  make  music.  There 
often  comes  One  to  us  who  at  first  seems  to 
be  a  stranger,  who  asks  permission  to  make 
use  of  our  talents  and  our  days.  He  is  not  a 
Stranger.  His  name  is  Jesus,  and  if  we  let 
Him,  He  will  bring  forth  from  our  lives  the 
most  beautiful  music.  He  will  turn  our  dis- 
cords into  peace  and  fill  all  life  with  harmony 
and  happiness. 


XIII 
"I'll  Take  What  Father  Takes'* 

One  morning  Harold  went  into  town  with 
his  father,  and  stayed  in  his  office  until  it  was 
time  to  go  to  lunch.  Harold  had  never  re- 
mained down  town  so  long,  and  he  was 
very  much  interested  in  all  the  books  and 
papers  and  drawers  and  desks  in  his  father's 
great  office.  He  and  his  father  were  chums, 
and  when  lunch  time  came  they  went  off  to- 
gether to  eat  at  a  near-by  restaurant.  The 
waiter  knew  the  boy's  father  and  when  he 
received  the  order  for  lunch  asked  the  boy 
what  he  would  have  to  drink.  The  waiter 
did  not  ask  his  father,  because  he  knew  that 
it  was  the  father's  custom  to  have  a  bottle  of 
wine  each  day.  The  boy  replied  as  he  had 
to  the  other  questions,  *'  I'll  take  what  father 
takes."  Then  his  father  knew  that  some- 
thing must  be  done,  that  it  would  never  do 
for  the  waiter  to  bring  a  bottle  of  wine  to  the 
boy,  and  so  he  quietly  called  the  waiter  to 
his  side  and  changed  his  order  and  asked  for 
a  glass  of  milk.  And  so  when  lunch  was 
brought  in,  two  glasses  of  milk  were  set 
47 


48  Children's  Story-SermonS 

down  on  the  table,  one  for  the  boy  and  one 
for  his  father  and  the  little  lad  was  greatly 
pleased  that  both  of  them  should  be  having 
the  same  lunch ;  but  all  that  afternoon  after 
the  father  had  gone  back  to  his  ofhce  the 
words  of  Harold  kept  ringing  in  his  ears : 
'Til  take  what  father  takes,"  *4'11  take  what 
father  takes,"  ''  I'll  take  what  father  takes.'* 
He  went  home  in  the  evening,  and  was 
happy  for  a  little  while  in  hearing  Harold 
tell  his  mother  all  about  his  day's  fun  in 
the  city  and  how  he  had  the  same  things 
for  lunch  as  his  father.  But  that  night  after 
the  boy  had  gone  to  bed,  the  father  still 
heard  those  same  words  over  and  over  again : 
♦Til  take  what  father  takes,"  ''  I'll  take  what 
father  takes,"  and  he  remembered  his  wine 
and  his  cigars  and  all  his  bad  habits.  At 
last  he  could  endure  it  no  longer  and  knelt 
down  and  asked  God  to  guide  him,  and  from 
that  night  on  he  never  tasted  wine  again  and 
never  took  anything  or  did  anything  that 
would  make  him  ashamed  if  his  boy  were  to 
do  the  same. 

I  think  that  the  boys  and  the  girls  who  can 
do  just  what  their  parents  do  and  are  sure  that 
they  are  doing  what  is  right  and  true  and 
good  and  kind,  ought  to  be  happy  boys  and 
girls.     And  I  think  that  fathers  and  mothers 


'*  ril  Take  What  Father  Takes  "      49 

who  feel  safe  in  having  their  children  take 
what  they  take  and  do  what  they  do,  and  go 
where  they  go,  and  speak  as  they  speak, 
ought  to  be  very  happy  fathers  and  mothers. 
A  father  who  wishes  to  keep  his  boy  a 
chum  all  through  life  must  walk  very  care- 
fully and  very  prayerfully. 


XIV      ^^ 

A  Great  Christian  Soldier 

Not  very  long  ago  one  of  the  great 
soldiers  of  the  Civil  War  died.  He  had  just 
one  arm,  and  every  one  knew  him  and  loved 
him.  They  called  him  Gen.  O.  O.  Howard, 
and  he  was  one  of  the  best  men  God  ever 
made.  He  served  in  our  Civil  War,  and 
during  General  Sherman's  last  campaign  in 
the  South  he  was  put  at  the  head  of  a  special 
division. 

After  the  war  closed,  it  was  planned  to 
have  a  great  parade  in  the  city  of  Washing- 
ton, and  the  man  whose  place  General  How- 
ard had  taken  insisted  on  riding  at  the  head 
of  his  former  command,  and  his  friends  were 
so  powerful  that  General  Sherman  did  not 
see  how  he  could  help  granting  his  request. 
Before  the  parade  was  arranged  he  sent  for 
General  Howard  and  told  him  how  he  was 
fixed,  and  asked  him  if  he  would  care  if  the 
other  general  rode  at  the  head  of  the  column. 
General  Howard  said  that  it  was  his  com- 
mand and  that  he  had  the  right  to  ride  at  its 
head.  **  Of  course,  that  is  true,"  said  General 
50 


A  Great  Christian  Soldier  51 

Sherman,  "  but  you  know,  Howard,  you  are 
a  Christian,  and  you  don^t  care  so  much 
about  it  and  you  can  stand  the  disappoint- 
ment." ''  Oh,"  said  General  Howard,  **  if 
that's  what  you  mean,  let  him  ride  there  and 
let  him  have  the  honour."  **  Yes,"  said  Gen- 
eral Sherman,  "  let  him  have  the  honour,  but 
you  will  report  to  me  at  nine  o'clock  and  ride 
by  my  side  at  the  head  of  the  army." 

So  you  see  that  by  giving  up  what  he  had 
a  right  to  hold,  he  gained  a  greater  honour. 
Jesus  tells  us  a  great  many  things  about 
humility  and  about  seeking  for  the  first  place 
and  for  the  highest  seats.  And  He  tells  us 
that  the  man  who  is  last  may  be  first,  and 
the  man  who  is  least  may  be  greatest,  and 
that  the  man  who  is  willing  to  be  a  servant 
is,  after  all,  a  king.  If  I  were  to  give  you  a 
text  for  this  story-sermon,  perhaps  it  would 
be  one  of  the  Beatitudes.  You  know  all  the 
Beatitudes,  of  course,  but  this  is  the  one  I 
would  give  you  as  a  text  for  this  story-sermon : 
"  Blessed  are  the  meek,  for  they  shall  inherit 
the  earth." 


XV 

A  Story  of  a  Powder  Mine 

A  FEW  years  ago  there  was  a  great  war 
going  on  over  in  Asia  between  Japan  and 
Russia.  When  I  was  a  little  boy  I  used 
to  think  that  wars  belonged  only  to  the 
far-away  past,  and  TU  never  forget  how 
surprised  I  was  to  learn  that  nations  still  carry 
on  war.  Well,  it  was  a  dreadful  war,  and  all 
wars  are  dreadful,  but  at  last  it  came  to  an 
end  and  there  was  peace  once  more,  and  the 
soldiers  left  their  guns  and  the  sailors  their 
ships  and  went  back  to  their  homes,  glad  that 
it  was  all  over. 

Two  years  went  by,  and  one  night  a  little 
town  on  the  coast  of  the  Sea  of  Japan  was 
awakened  out  of  its  sleep  by  a  noise  that 
seemed  to  shake  the  earth.  Trees  were  up- 
rooted and  houses  fell  in  ruins,  and  when  the 
morning  broke  ten  men  were  found  dead 
upon  the  shore  and  a  hundred  and  fifty-six 
wounded.  It  seemed  as  if  the  war  had  broken 
out  afresh.  What  was  it  that  had  happened  ? 
What  did  it  all  mean  ?  Where  did  the  dread- 
ful explosion  come  from  ?  You  know  when 
5* 


A  Story  of  a  Powder  Mine  53 

there  is  war  they  put  powder  mines  out  upon 
the  sea  to  float  so  that  when  the  big  ships  of 
the  enemy  strike  them  they  explode  and  the 
war  vessels  are  destroyed  ;  and  this  was  one 
of  those  powder  mines  that  had  been  forgot- 
ten, and  it  had  floated  and  floated  and  floated 
harmlessly  upon  the  waves  for  nearly  two 
long  years,  and  at  last  it  touched  the  shore 
and  did  its  dreadful  work. 

Now,  boys  and  girls,  sin  is  just  like  that 
powder  mine.  Some  time,  perhaps,  away  in 
the  past  we  did  something  that  was  wrong 
and  we  forgot  about  it  and  did  not  ask  God 
to  forgive  us,  and  the  days  and  the  weeks 
and  the  years  perhaps  went  by  and  we  thought 
nothing  about  it,  until  at  last  it  came  home  to 
us  again.  There  is  a  verse  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment that  you  ought  always  to  remember. 
It  is  a  very  short  one,  but  it  is  a  very  true 
one  :  **  Be  sure  your  sin  will  find  you  out." 
It  may  not  be  found  out  by  any  one  else,  but 
that  is  not  what  it  says — the  verse  says  that 
''your  sin  will  find  you  out."  Sin  is  like 
powder,  and  the  best  thing  is  to  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  it. 


XVI 

Not  Ashamed  of  His  Mother 

This  is  a  story  that  Mr.  Moody  was  very 
fond  of  telling.  He  told  it  over  and  over 
again,  and  never  seemed  to  grow  tired  of  it. 
I  think  any  man  would  like  it  who  was  fond 
of  his  mother. 

It  is  the  story  of  a  poor  boy  whose  father 
was  dead,  and  whose  mother  worked  hard 
every  day  in  order  that  he  might  get  an  edu- 
cation and  go  to  college.  When  the  day 
came  for  him  to  graduate,  he  wrote  back 
home  for  his  mother  to  come.  She  replied 
that  she  couldn't  go  to  see  him  graduate,  for 
her  clothes  were  all  old  and  worn  and  she  had 
no  money  to  buy  new  ones.  The  boy  still 
begged  her  to  come,  and  at  last  to  please  him 
she  went  in  the  best  clothes  she  had.  The 
graduation  exercises  were  in  a  very  rich  and 
fashionable  church,  and  when  the  names  of 
the  prize  winners  were  read,  her  son  received 
the  highest  honours.  He  had  taken  her  to 
the  church  and  given  her  one  of  the  best  seats 
in  the  very  centre,  and  then  went  to  join  the 
class  on  the  platform.  There  were  tears  in 
54 


Not  Ashamed  of  His  Mother         ^^ 

her  eyes  when  her  son  rose  up  to  receive  his 
reward.  The  president  of  the  college  pinned 
a  medal  on  his  coat  and  expressed  his  joy  at 
the  splendid  success  which  this  poor  boy  from 
the  country  had  won  in  his  college  work.  As 
soon  as  he  had  received  the  medal,  he  quietly 
left  the  platform  and  went  directly  to  his 
mother  and  pinned  it  on  her  old,  black,  faded 
dress.  There  were  tears  in  his  eyes,  too,  as 
he  bent  over  and  kissed  her  face.  ''  That's 
where  it  belongs,"  he  whispered,  and  then  he 
went  back  to  his  place.  That  was  a  beautiful 
thing  to  do,  and  every  one  was  pleased  to  see 
a  boy  so  honour  his  mother. 

You  know  one  of  the  commandments 
speaks  something  about  honouring  our  father 
and  our  mother,  and  no  better  test  of  a  boy's 
real  character  can  be  found  than  the  way  in 
which  he  treats  his  parents.  One  of  the  most 
beautiful  things  that  we  read  of  in  the  life  of 
Jesus  is  that  He  went  down  to  His  home  in 
Nazareth  and  was  subject  unto  His  parents. 
I  don't  wonder  that  when  He  was  suffering 
on  the  cross  He  forgot  about  Himself  and 
gave  His  mother  into  the  care  of  John,  His 
favourite  disciple. 


XVII 
"  God  and  Me  *' 

Away  up  in  the  north  of  Scotland  there  is 
a  little  bridge  over  a  mountain  stream.  It  is 
in  a  little  out-of-the-way  place  and  in  the 
summer  time  the  stream  is  very  small,  but 
when  the  heavy  rains  and  melting  snows 
come  in  the  spring  time,  it  becomes  a  raging 
torrent.  Across  that  mountain  stream  there 
is  a  stone  foot-bridge,  and  on  the  keystone 
of  the  arch — you  know  what  a  keystone  is, 
don't  you  ?  It  is  the  central  stone  that  holds 
the  bridge  together — there  are  carved  these 
words,  "  God  and  Me.''  Perhaps  the  gram- 
mar is  not  very  good,  but  the  story  is  good 
and  I  am  going  to  tell  you  why  those  words 
are  carved  there  on  that  stone. 

Many  years  ago  before  there  was  any 
bridge  over  the  stream,  a  little  girl  was  try- 
ing to  cross  when  the  water  was  high,  and 
she  missed  her  footing  and  fell  and  was  in 
danger  of  drowning.  She  prayed  to  God  to 
help  her,  and  promised  Him  that  if  He  did 
help  her  she  would  build  a  bridge  over  that 
56 


"  God  and  Me  '*  57 

dangerous  place.  Well,  God  did  help  her, 
and  she  got  safely  across  to  the  other  side. 
She  was  just  a  poor  girl,  but  she  went  to 
work  after  a  while  and  before  she  died  had 
saved  up  enough  money  to  build  that  stone 
foot-bridge  across  the  river,  and  there  it  is 
to-day  with  its  beautiful  motto,  '*  God  and 
Me." 

I  think  that  is  a  very  nice  way  to  think 
about  our  work,  that  we  help  God  and  God 
helps  us.  We  are  workers  together  with 
Him. 


XVIII 

A  Little  Girl's  Prayer 

I  WANT  to  tell  you  a  story  about  a  little  girl. 
She  was  just  a  little  girl — not  very  old,  only 
about  six — but  she  was  a  good  little  girl, 
and  one  day  she  came  to  her  father, — and  I 
know  she  thought  she  had  the  very  best  papa 
in  all  the  world.  I  suppose  every  little  girl 
thinks  that  and  ought  to  think  it.  And  she 
said,  **  Papa,  I  want  you  to  say  something  to 
God  for  me.  Something  I  want  to  tell  Him 
very  much.  I  have  such  a  little  voice  that  I 
don't  think  He  could  hear  it  away  up  in 
heaven,  but  you  have  such  a  great  big  man's 
voice,  and  He  will  be  sure  to  hear."  Wasn't 
it  strange  for  her  to  say  that  ?  What  do  you 
think  her  papa  said  to  her  ?  Well,  he  took 
the  little  girl  in  his  arms,  and  told  her  that  if 
God  were  surrounded  by  all  the  angels  sing- 
ing one  of  the  grandest  and  sweetest  songs 
that  was  ever  heard  in  heaven.  He  would  say 
to  them,  "  Hush  I  Stop  singing  for  a  little 
while.  There's  a  little  girl  away  down  on  the 
earth  who  wants  to  tell  Me  something,  and  I 
must  listen  to  hear  what  she  has  to  say." 
58 


A  Little  Girl's  Prayer  59 

Isn't  that  a  pretty  story?  I  think  the 
sweetest  words  I  ever  hear  are  the  words  of 
a  little  child's  prayer,  and  I  think,  too,  that 
the  very  sweetest  words  that  God  hears  up 
in  heaven  are  the  words  that  are  spoken  by 
the  little  children  who  fall  asleep  with  His 
name  upon  their  lips. 


XIX 
A  Story  About  Prayer 

I  HOPE  that  each  boy  and  girl  who  listens 
to  these  stories  knows  what  it  is  to  pray.  I 
suppose  you  all  do.  Prayer  is  something- 
much  like  electricity.  You  know  we  send 
messages  far  away  and  the  people  receive 
them  just  as  we  send  them,  and  so  too,  we 
speak  to  God  and  somehow  He  hears  us. 

I  have  heard  a  story  that  perhaps  will  help 
you  to  see  how  prayer  may  do  things  for  us 
better  than  we  could  do  them  ourselves. 
Over  in  Great  Britain  there  are  two  big 
cities,  Edinburgh  and  London,  and  they 
are  a  whole  night's  ride  apart.  There  is  an 
office  of  a  great  newspaper  in  each  of  the 
cities  and  there  is  a  telegraph  wire  connect- 
ing those  offices.  One  night  one  of  the  men 
of  the  London  office  was  out  very  late,  gath- 
ering news,  and  when  he  came  back  he 
couldn't  get  in  because  the  man  on  the  third 
floor,  where  the  office  was,  had  fallen  asleep, 
and  do  what  he  could  he  was  not  able  to  wake 
him  up.  So  he  went  to  the  nearest  telegraph 
office  and  sent  a  message  all  the  way  to 
60 


A  Story  About  Prayer  6l 

Edinburgh,  and  it  read,  "  Wake  up  the  man 
in  the  third  story."  Then  he  went  back 
to  the  door  and  in  a  little  while  down  came 
his  companion  to  open  the  door. 

Don't  you  think  that  was  a  strange  way  by 
which  to  reach  the  man  in  London  ?  The 
message  went  all  the  way  to  Edinburgh 
and  then  back  to  London,  and  it  did  the 
work  that  he  couldn't  do,  and  he  was  within 
a  few  steps  of  the  very  place  he  wanted  to  be. 

Now,  God  can  do  some  things  for  us  better 
than  we  can  do  them  ourselves,  or  better  than 
our  friends  can  do  them  for  us,  and  prayer  is 
the  way  we  talk  to  God.  He  is  our  helper, 
and  He  will  do  for  us  far  more  than  we  have 
ever  thought  He  could  do. 


/ 


XX 

Hector  and  His  Little  Boy 

I  AM  going  to  tell  you  a  story  from  a  very 
old  book.  It  is  older  than  much  of  our 
Bible.  They  tell  us  that  it  was  written  by  a 
man  whose  name  was  Homer,  but  very  little 
is  known  about  him  except  that  he  was  a 
great  poet  and  that  he  was  blind. 

He  tells  a  story  about  one  of  the  great 
soldiers  of  his  time  whose  name  was  Hector. 
He  was  starting  out  to  one  of  the  wars,  for 
war  in  those  days  was  the  main  business  of 
life,  and  his  wife  and  little  boy  came  out  to 
say  good-bye.  He  was  dressed  in  his  heavy 
armour  with  his  shining  helmet  flashing  in 
the  sun,  and  looked  very  strange  and  very 
dreadful,  and  when  he  put  out  his  arms  to 
take  his  boy  and  kiss  him,  the  little  fellow 
drew  back  to  his  mother  and  cried  out  for 
fear  and  fright.  When  the  father  understood, 
he  took  off  his  helmet  and  laid  aside  his 
shield,  and  then  the  little  lad  knew  that  it 
was  his  own  dear  father  and  running  from  his 
mother  he  sprang  into  his  father's  arms  and 
kissed  him  again  and  again. 
62 


Hector  and  His  Little  Boy  63 

You  know  it  is  hard  for  us  to  think  right 
thoughts  about  God.  We  say  that  God  is 
great,  that  He  is  mighty,  that  He  is  a  great 
Judge  and  a  great  King,  and  these  great 
names  frighten  us  and  make  us  afraid.  We 
think  of  the  thunder  and  the  lightning  as 
His  voice,  but  those  things  do  not  tell  us  the 
truth  about  God,  and  so  He  sent  Jesus  into 
the  world.  Jesus  became  a  little  child  and 
grew  up  to  be  a  man  and  lived  His  beautiful 
life  among  us,  and  said  to  those  who  wanted 
to  see  God  :  "  He  that  hath  seen  Me  hath 
seen  the  Father."  It  was  Jesus  who  took 
little  children  in  His  arms  and  blessed  them, 
and  He  it  is  who  helps  us  to  know  God  and 
to  love  Him.  Let  us  say  it  over  again, 
"  God  is  Love." 


XXI 

A  Missionary  Story 

This  is  a  missionary  story.  Not  a  mis- 
sionary story  about  people  far,  far  away  in 
China,  or  India  or  Africa,  but  right  here  at 
home.  Down  in  Iowa  some  years  ago  there 
was  a  father  and  a  mother  and  a  little  baby 
boy  and  a  little  girl  of  seven.  The  father 
was  not  getting  along  very  well,  and  when 
the  new,  great  northwest  country  opened  up, 
he  went  to  North  Dakota  and  secured  a  farm 
in  a  very  lonely  and  out-of-the-way  place. 
When  he  came  back  and  told  his  little  girl 
they  were  going  to  move  far  away,  she  asked 
him,  right  off,  the  very  first  thing,  if  there 
was  any  church  there.  You  see  she  was 
fond  of  church.  Her  father  said  there  was  no 
church  there.  Then  she  asked  him  if  there 
was  any  Sunday-school.  And  he  said,  "  No." 
**  Is  there  any  God  there  ?  "  she  asked  and 
her  father  did  not  know  what  to  say,  and 
so  did  not  say  anything.  When  they  had 
moved  all  the  things  out  of  the  house  to  the 
train  and  were  ready  to  leave  the  old  home, 
no  one  could  find  the  little  girl.  They  hunted 
64 


A  Missionary  Story  65 

for  her  and  hunted  for  her,  and  at  last  found 
her.  And  do  you  know  where  they  found 
her?  They  found  her  in  her  own  room, 
now  all  bare  and  empty,  and  she  was  kneel- 
ing in  one  corner  with  her  face  to  the  wall. 

They  wondered  what  she  was  doing", 
and  then  her  mother  who  first  found  her, 
overheard  her  praying,  and  this  is  what  she 
said :  **  Dear  God,  we  are  going  to  North 
Dakota,  and  there  is  no  Sunday-school  there 
and  there  is  no  church  there,  and  there  is  no 
God  there.  Good-bye,  God.  Good-bye." 
When  she  got  through,  what  do  you  think 
her  mother  did  ?  With  the  tears  in  her  eyes 
she  knelt  down  beside  her  litde  girl  and 
asked  God  to  send  the  Sunday-school  and 
the  church  to  their  new  home,  and  to  go 
with  them  there  Himself.  And  so  they  went 
away  to  their  new  and  lonely  home  in  the 
far  West.  Now,  what  do  you  think  hap- 
pened ?  Within  two  months,  the  Sunday- 
school  missionary,  one  of  the  men  we 
support  with  our  Children's  Day  offering, 
came  and  started  a  Sunday-school,  and 
within  five  months  they  had  a  little  church, 
and  the  neighbours  for  miles  and  miles  around 
came  to  both  Sunday-school  and  church. 

A  child's  prayer  is  always  answered. 


XXII  / 

A  Boy  Who  Was  a  Bridge 

Nearly  a  hundred  years  ago  there  was 
born  in  Switzerland  a  little  boy  whose  name 
was  Louis  Agassiz.  Isn't  that  a  strange 
name  for  a  boy  ?  His  father  was  a  minister, 
but  I  guess  that  hasn't  anything  to  do  with 
his  name.  When  he  grew  up  to  be  a  man 
he  came  to  America  and  was  one  of  the 
greatest  scholars  and  scientists  that  the  world 
has  ever  had.  But  my  story  is  not  about  a 
man  but  about  a  boy. 

When  he  was  a  little  boy  in  Switzerland, 
he  lived  on  the  border  of  a  lake.  You  know 
there  are  a  great  many  beautiful  lakes  in 
Switzerland.  He  had  a  little  brother  very 
much  smaller  than  himself,  and  these  two 
boys  one  day  thought  they  would  go  across 
the  lake  and  meet  their  father.  The  lake 
was  covered  with  ice,  and  they  started  off  to 
walk  across  it  to  him.  Their  mother  stood 
at  the  window  watching  them  and  saw  them 
go  along  quite  safely  until  they  came  to  a 
crack  in  the  ice.  It  was  not  very  wide,  per- 
haps only  a  foot,  and  the  ice  was  quite  thick, 
66 


A  Boy  Who  Was  a  Bridge  67 

but  the  mother  was  afraid  that  the  little 
fellow  would  try  to  step  over  it  and  that  he 
would  fall  in.  She  could  not  call  to  them, 
for  they  were  too  far  away,  and  she  could 
not  run  after  them  because  they  would  have 
tried  to  get  over  before  she  could  reach  them ; 
so  she  could  only  sit  at  the  window  and 
watch  and  pray.  Now,  what  do  you  think 
happened  ?  Do  you  think  they  turned  back, 
or  do  you  think  they  both  jumped?  Well, 
they  didn't  do  either.  The  big  boy  Louis 
got  down  on  the  ice,  his  feet  on  one  side  of 
the  crack  and  his  hands  on  the  other  just 
like  a  bridge,  and  his  little  brother  crept  over 
him  to  the  other  side.  Then  they  both  went 
along  laughing  and  jumping  in  great  glee 
until  they  met  their  father. 

I  think  this  is  not  only  a  pretty  story,  but 
a  very  good  story.  Every  big  boy  ought  to 
be  a  bridge  for  every  little  boy.  Every  boy 
is  big  enough  to  help  some  other  boy  over 
the  dangerous  places.  A  big  boy  should 
help  a  little  boy  to  hate  swearing  and  smok- 
ing and  lying  and  cheating.  I  think  Jesus 
must  have  helped  lots  of  little  boys  to  do 
what  was  right 


XXIII 
The  Copper  That  Became  Gold 

Once  upon  a  time — I  think  this  is  a  real 
fairy  story — in  a  very  far-away  country  there 
lived  a  great  and  wise  king.  Everybody 
loved  him,  and  the  people  from  far  and  near 
were  glad  to  bring  presents  to  the  king  to 
show  how  much  they  loved  him. 

Now,  there  lived  in  the  country  a  poor 
old  woman.  She  had  been  poor  ail  her  life, 
and  knew  nothing  about  riches  or  money  or 
wealth.  Then  there  came  a  day  when  all 
the  people  made  their  gifts  to  the  king,  and 
all  this  poor  woman  had  was  just  a  copper 
farthing.  That  is  a  piece  of  money  less  than 
our  penny,  and  she  was  ashamed  of  it  and 
said :  "  This  is  so  small.  I  am  afraid  the 
great  king  will  be  angry  with  me  if  I  give  it. 
It  is  so  small  it  would  be  better  perhaps  for 
me  to  keep  it  to  myself."  But  when  she  saw 
the  others  giving  their  gifts,  she  changed  her 
mind  and  went  with  the  rest  to  give  her 
farthing  to  the  king.  Now,  the  story  goes, 
that  when  she  dropped  it  into  the  king's 
hand  something  happened.  What  do  you 
68 


The  Copper  That  Became  Gold       6g 

think  happened?  Well,  this  is  what  hap- 
pened :  When  the  king  looked  to  see  what 
the  poor  old  woman  had  given  him,  he  saw 
lying  in  his  hand  a  coin  of  the  purest  gold. 
Then  the  king  was  ashamed  and  loved  the 
poor  old  woman  for  her  gift  very  much,  but 
thought  it  was  too  much  for  her  to  give,  and 
so  taking  the  poor  withered  hand  in  his  he 
put  the  coin  back  into  her  hand  again,  but 
when  he  looked  at  it  in  her  hand,  what  do 
you  think  he  saw  ?  Why,  it  was  just  the  old 
copper  coin  again!  Then  she  gave  it  to 
l:he  king  once  more,  and  again  it  was  gold 
in  his  hand. 

Now,  that's  a  fairy  story,  but  it's  a  true 
story.  I  think  you  know  that  most  fairy 
stories  are  true  stories.  Some  day  perhaps 
you  will  understand  what  I  mean  by  that,  but 
I  think  you  know  what  this  story  means,  for 
when  we  give  even  our  smallest  gift  to  the 
Master  it  becomes  of  far  more  worth  than 
when  we  keep  it  for  ourselves.  You  know 
Jesus  saw  a  poor  woman  put  in  the  collection 
plate  two  farthings,  and  He  said  that  what 
she  had  given  was  worth  more  than  all  the 
rich  people  had  given.  And  you  remember 
the  little  boy  who  gave  his  lunch  to  Jesus, 
and  how  Jesus  with  that  little  boy's  lunch  fed 
more  than  five  thousand  men. 


XXIV 

The  Scholar's  Prayer 

About  two  hundred  years  ago  there  lived 
in  Germany  a  very  wise  man.  His  name  was 
Bengel  —  Johann  Albrecht  Bengel.  Every 
one  knew  that  he  was  a  great  man  and  a  great 
scholar.  He  wrote  books  on  the  Bible  that 
are  still  read  and  studied.  He  was  a  good 
man  and  every  one  who  knew  him  loved 
him.  Don't  you  think  it  would  be  lovely  if 
we  loved  every  one  we  knew  and  if  all  who 
knew  us  loved  us  ?  One  of  Bengel's  friends 
was  very  anxious  to  learn  the  secret  of  his 
beautiful  life,  and  decided  he  would  hide 
away  in  the  great  man's  study  and  watch 
what  the  dear  old  man  did  when  he  thought 
no  one  but  God  was  seeing  him.  Did  you 
ever  see  the  study  of  a  great  scholar  who 
lives  among  books  and  desks  and  papers  and 
magazines  ?  Well,  if  you  have,  you  know  it 
would  not  be  hard  to  hide  away  somewhere 
so  no  one  could  see  you.  Now  that  is  just 
what  this  friend  did,  and  there  behind 
the  books  and  the  shelves  he  waited  and 
watched.  That  was  not  a  very  nice  thing 
70 


The  Scholar's  Prayer  71 

to  do,  but  we  will  forgive  him  because  we 
have  such  a  nice  story  to  tell  about  it. 
This  hide-and-seek  man  thought  he  would 
not  have  to  wait  long  to  see  what  the  old 
man  did  and  how  he  said  his  prayers,  and 
what  he  did  to  make  him  so  good  and  beauti- 
ful. I  know  some  one  who  wouldn't  miss 
hearing  a  little  girl  say  her  prayer  for  more 
money  than  you  could  count.  But  this  hide- 
and-seek  man  didn't  guess  how  long  he 
would  have  to  wait  and  watch.  Nine  o'clock, 
ten  o'clock,  eleven  o'clock  came  and  still  the 
old  man  sat  reading  his  Bible  and  thinking 
over  each  word  and  writing  out  his  notes, 
which  were  afterwards  to  make  his  great 
book  on  the  New  Testament.  It  was  almost 
twelve  o'clock,  and  the  man  was  still  hiding 
away  behind  the  books  and  Bengel  was  still 
hard  at  his  task.  At  last,  it  struck  twelve  and 
closing  his  books  and  clasping  his  hands  and 
closing  his  eyes,  he  began  to  pray.  And 
what  do  you  think  he  heard  ?  Well,  this  was 
the  prayer:  "  Dear  Lord  Jesus,  we  are  on  the 
same  old  terms."  Just  ten  little  words.  Just 
a  little  child's  prayer.  I  can  think  of  no 
better  prayer  than  that.  How  good  it  is  to 
be  on  "the  same  old  terms"  with  the  dear 
Lord  Jesus  and  to  know  that  always  and 
everywhere  we  are  the  best  of  friends. 


XXV 

Tongues  and  Ears 

This  is  a  missionary  story.  Not  an  old- 
fashioned,  dry-as-dust,  good-for-nothing  mis- 
sionary story,  but  a  real  story  from  Japan,  one 
about  Japanese  children.  You  know  the 
children  of  Japan  are  just  like  other  children, 
and  they  love  stories.  Perhaps  they  love  them 
more  than  other  children,  for  even  on  the 
street  corners  one  can  sometimes  see  men  tell- 
ing stories  to  little  boys  and  girls  who  gather 
around  them.  One  day  a  missionary  who 
happened  to  be  around  overheard  one  of 
these  men  telling  a  group  of  little  children  a 
story,  and  this  is  what  he  heard : 

Once  upon  a  time  a  little  boy  went  to 
heaven,  and  the  first  thing  he  saw  was  a 
long  shelf  with  something  very  strange  upon 
it.  **  What  is  that  ?  "  he  asked.  '*  Is  that 
something  to  make  soup  of  ?  "  You  know 
the  Japanese  are  very  fond  of  soup,  and  he 
thought  of  course  that  these  strange  things 
that  he  saw  would  be  used  for  that  purpose. 
**  No,"  was  the  reply,  **  they  are  ears  belong- 
ing to  little  boys  and  girls  who  didn't  pay 
72 


Tongues  and  Ears  73 

any  attention  to  what  they  heard  and  so 
when  they  died  their  ears  came  to  heaven, 
but  the  rest  of  their  bodies  did  not."  The 
little  boy  looked  upon  another  shelf  and  saw 
something  more  that  was  strange  and  queer 
to  him,  and  asked  what  it  was.  "  Is  that 
something  to  make  soup  of  ?  "  he  said  again. 
**  No,"  he  was  told,  **  those  things  are  tongues. 
They  belong  to  boys  and  girls  who  were 
always  talking  and  telling  other  people  how 
to  be  good,  but  they  themselves  never  did  as 
they  told  others  to  do  and  when  they  died 
their  tongues  came  to  heaven,  but  the  rest  of 
their  bodies  didn't." 

Now,  you  know  what  that  story  means. 
It  is  just  like  a  fairy  story,  but  like  all  fairy 
stories,  it  has  a  lesson.  God  gives  us  ears 
and  tongues  and  hands  and  feet  and  eyes 
and  hearts  to  help  us  and  to  use  rightly,  and 
if  we  don't  use  them  as  God  wants  us  to  use 
them,  they  do  us  no  good,  but  evil.  Jesus 
said  it  would  be  better  for  us  to  be  blind 
than  to  see  only  bad  things,  and  that  it  would 
be  better  for  us  to  be  deaf  than  for  us  to  hear 
only  wicked  things. 


XXVI 
A  Lion  and  a  Little  Dog 

You  all  know  what  a  zoo  is.  It's  a  place 
where  wild  animals  are  kept.  In  the  great 
city  of  London  they  call  the  zoo  the  Zoo- 
logical Gardens.  It  was  one  of  the  first  zoos 
in  all  the  world,  and  many  years  ago  the  peo- 
ple who  went  to  London  all  visited  the  wild 
animals  that  were  kept  there. 

One  day  a  strange  man  was  visiting  the 
cages  of  the  wild  beasts,  and  he  had  with  him 
a  little  dog  that  was  very  unruly  and  dis- 
obedient. When  he  came  to  the  lion's  cage, 
where  there  was  one  of  those  great  animals 
that  we  call  **  The  King  of  the  Forest,"  he 
said  to  the  keeper,  **  You  may  throw  that 
little  dog  into  the  lion's  cage,  if  you  like." 
The  keeper  reached  down  and  catching  the 
little  dog,  opened  the  door  of  the  cage  and 
threw  it  in  to  the  great,  fierce-looking  beast. 
The  two  men  looked  and  expected  to  see  the 
lion  eat  up  the  little  dog  in  just  a  minute, 
but  the  lion  did  not  do  that.  What  do  you 
think  it  did  ?  The  little  dog  crept  off  into  a 
corner  of  the  cage,  and  they  could  see  its 
74 


A  Lion  and  a  Little  Dog  75 

hair  moving  for  very  fear  and  then  they  saw 
the  great  lion  walk  slowly  over  to  where  it 
was  and  put  out  its  great,  strong  paw,  and 
stroke  the  head  of  the  little  dog.  Then  it 
lay  down  beside  its  new  found  companion, 
and  they  became  fast  friends.  The  man 
went  away  wondering  how  long  it  would  be 
before  the  lion  ate  up  the  dog.  After  three 
or  four  weeks  he  came  back  and  was  sur- 
prised to  see  behind  the  bars  of  the  cage 
his  little  dog  walking  up  and  down  beside 
the  huge  beast,  quite  independent,  as  much 
as  to  say,  '*  You  see  where  I  am."  The  man 
hunted  up  the  keeper,  and  said,  "  I  guess  the 
lion  doesn't  want  that  little  dog  for  his  din- 
ner, so  I'll  just  take  it  home  again.  My 
children  have  missed  it,  and  I  think  I'd  better 
take  it  home."  **  Well,"  said  the  keeper, 
"  here  are  the  keys.  You  can  get  the  dog 
for  yourself."  Do  you  think  he  got  the  dog  ? 
Well,  I  guess  he  didn't.  He  couldn't  get 
near  that  cage  to  open  the  door,  for  the  great 
lion  began  to  roar  and  would  have  used  all 
his  great  strength  to  protect  the  little  dog 
that  had  become  his  friend. 

Many  people  are  afraid  of  God,  and  some- 
where in  the  Bible  we  read  it  is  a  fearful 
thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God. 
Well,  so  it  is,  for  God  is  love  and  when  we 


76  Children's  Story-Sermons 

have  hearts  of  sin  and  hearts  of  hate  and 
when  we  fight  against  God  and  go  our  own 
way,  we  feel  that  all  God's  great  power  is 
being  used  against  us.  We  are  afraid  of 
God,  because  we  have  wrong  thoughts  about 
Him.  When  we  give  ourselves  to  Him  and 
trust  Him,  we  find  that  instead  of  hurting 
us  He  is  our  best  friend,  and  uses  all  His 
love  and  power  and  strength  to  protect 
and  keep  and  help  us.  Here  are  some  of 
the  things  He  says  : 

**  I  will  never  leave  you,  nor  forsake  you." 
"  He  that  cometh   unto  Me,  I  will  in  no 
wise  cast  out." 

"  All  power  is  given  unto  Me,  and,  lo,  I  am 
with  you  always." 


XXVII 

Beware  of  the  Gamers  Nose 

This  is  an  Arabian  story,  a  story,  I  sup- 
pose, like  one  of  the  stories  of  the  **  Arabian 
Nights." 

An  Arab,  who  was  living  alone  in  his  tent, 
was  surprised  to  hear  footsteps  coming  over 
the  sand  straight  for  the  door  of  his  tent.  He 
listened,  and  was  soon  more  surprised  than 
ever  to  see  the  folds  of  the  tent  door  open 
and  the  nose  of  a  camel  come  through.  **  Get 
out  of  there,"  said  the  Arab.  The  camel 
didn't  move,  but  spoke  back  to  the  Arab,  and 
said :  "  It's  so  cold  here  on  the  outside. 
Please  let  me  put  only  my  nose  through  the 
door  so  that  I  may  be  warmed  just  a  little." 
**  Well,  see  that  you  come  no  further,"  said 
the  Arab,  and  having  said  that  he  went  about 
his  work.  When  he  turned  to  look  again, 
the  camel's  head  was  in  at  the  door,  and  it 
was  looking  all  over  the  tent.  *'  Didn't  I  tell 
you  to  come  no  further?"  said  the  Arab. 
"  My  head  was  cold,"  said  the  camel,  "  and  I 
thought  if  you  would  let  my  nose  in  you 
would  not  mind  about  my  head."  "  Well, 
see  that  you  come  no  further,"  said  the  Arab, 
77 


78  Children's  Story-Sermons 

and  he  went  about  his  work.  When  he 
looked  again,  the  camel  had  put  its  front  foot 
and  shoulder  through  the  door  and  was 
reaching  farther  into  the  tent.  The  man 
turned  quickly  and  was  angry  and  told  the 
camel  to  move  back  and  go  away,  and  was 
about  to  reach  down  and  lift  up  a  stick  to 
strike  it,  when  the  camel  walked  boldly  into 
the  tent  and  drove  the  man  forth  from  his 
own  home. 

I  think  you  know  now  what  it  means  when 
people  say,  '*  Beware  of  the  camel's  nose," 
There  is  only  one  way  to  keep  the  camel  out, 
and  that  is  not  to  let  even  its  nose  in,  and 
there  is  only  one  way  to  keep  evil  out  of  our 
thoughts  and  minds  and  hearts  and  that  is 
not  to  allow  it  to  have  the  least  entrance. 
There's  an  old  proverb  that  says  :  **  First,  the 
man  took  a  drink.  Then  the  drink  took  a 
drink,  and  then  the  drink  took  the  man." 
That's  always  the  way  when  we  start  a  friend- 
ship with  things  that  are  wrong.  Perhaps 
you  will  remember  the  story  of  the  camel's 
nose  if  I  repeat  to  you  some  verses  about  it : 

Once  in  a  shop  a  workman  wrought, 
With  languid  hand  and  listless  thought ; 

When  through  the  open  window  space, 
Behold  !  a  camel  thrust  his  face. 

**My  nose  is  cold,"  he  meekly  cried, 
**  Oh,  let  me  warm  it  by  thy  side." 


Beware  of  the  Camel's  Nose  79 

Since  no  denial  word  was  said, 

In  came  the  nose,  in  came  the  head ; 

As  true  as  sermon  follows  text, 

The  long  and  shaggy  neck  came  next ; 

And  then  as  falls  the  threatening  storm, 
In  leaped  the  whole  ungainly  form. 

Aghast  the  owner  gazed  around. 

And  on  the  rude  invader  frowned, 
Convinced  as  closer  still  he  pressed, 

There  was  no  room  for  such  a  guest ; 
Yet  more  astonished,  heard  him  say, 

"  If  thou  art  troubled,  go  thy  way. 
For  in  this  place  I  choose  to  stay." 

Oh,  youthful  hearts  to  gladness  born. 
Treat  not  this  Arab  lore  with  scorn  ; 

To  evil  habits,  earliest  wile. 

Lend  neither  ear,  nor  glance,  nor  smile; 

Check  the  dark  fountain  ere  it  flows, 
Nor  e'en  admit  the  camel's  nose.'* 


XXVIII 

A  Little  Lost  Lamb 

I  HAVE  a  story  for  you  about  a  little  lost 
lamb.  We  have  heard  often  about  the  lost 
sheep,  but  this  time  it  is  about  a  lost  lamb. 
It  was  off  in  the  far-away  country  of  Aus- 
tralia, which  is,  you  know,  the  largest  island 
in  the  whole  world  and  has  great  unfenced 
hills  and  plains  and  farms.  One  day  this 
little  lamb  wandered  off  from  the  flock  where 
it  belonged  and  got  mixed  up  with  a  lot  of 
strange  sheep  and  lambs.  But  the  owner  of 
the  little  lamb  hunted  for  it  and  at  last  found 
it  and  claimed  it,  but  the  farmer  in  whose 
field  the  little  lamb  was  found  would  not  give 
it  back  but  claimed  it  as  his  own.  So  the 
owner  of  the  lamb  went  to  the  great  judge  in 
the  court  room  and  asked  that  the  little  lamb 
be  given  back  to  him  again.  'The  farmer 
said  the  little  lamb  was  his.  So  how  could 
the  judge  tell  ?  One  man  said  it  was  his, 
and  the  other  said  it  was  his.  So  what  was 
he  to  do  ?  What  a  dreadful  thing  it  is,  not 
to  tell  the  truth  !  Well,  he  was  a  wise  judge, 
a  very  wise  judge,  and  he  ordered  the  farmer 
80 


A  Little  Lost  Lamb  81 

to  bring  the  little  lamb  into  the  courtyard. 
You  can  imagine  how  timid  and  frightened 
and  lonely  the  little  thing  would  be.  How 
would  you  like  to  be  taken  all  alone  into  a 
great  judge's  court?  When  the  Httle  lamb 
was  shut  in  the  courtyard,  the  judge  told  the 
farmer  to  go  and  call  the  lamb.  So  down  he 
went  and  called  and  called.  Do  you  know 
how  to  call  a  little  lamb  ? — "  Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba." 
But  the  little  lamb  just  raised  its  head  and 
looked  frightened.  Then  the  judge  called 
the  man  who  said  he  had  lost  the  lamb  and 
told  him  to  call.  So  he  did,  but  first  he  hid 
behind  a  tree  in  the  courtyard,  and  then  he 
began  to  call,  in  a  sweet,  winning  way — 
"  Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba,"  and  the  little  lamb  began 
to  run  round  and  round  and  at  last  came  to 
the  tree  where  the  man  was  hiding  and  call- 
ing, and  when  it  found  him  it  began  to  lick 
his  hand  and  rub  its  little  head  on  the  man's 
legs  as  little  lambs  that  are  happy  fre- 
quently do.  I  have  often  seen  them  do  it, 
and  perhaps  you  have  too.  Then,  of  course, 
the  judge  knew  whose  the  little  lamb  was, 
and  off  it  went  with  the  man  that  loved  it, 
contented  and  happy. 

There  is  a  story  something  like  this  in 
the  Bible.  It  tells  us  that  we  are  like  the 
little  lost  lamb  and  that  Jesus  is  our  Good 


82  Children's  Story-Sermons 

% 
Shepherd,  and  this  is  the  story  :  **  The  sheep 
hear  His  voice;  and  He  calleth  His  own 
sheep  by  name  and  leadeth  them  out.  And 
when  He  putteth  forth  His  own  sheep  He 
goeth  before  them,  and  the  sheep  follow  Him ; 
for  they  know  His  voice.  But  a  stranger  will 
they  not  follow,  but  will  flee  from  him ;  for 
they  know  not  the  voice  of  strangers." 


XXIX 

A  Rich  Lady's  Dream 

I  HAVE  heard  of  a  lady  who  had  a  very 
strange  dream.  You  know  how  strange 
most  of  our  dreams  are.  But  this  was  such 
a  strange  dream.  She  was  a  very  rich 
woman,  and  the  people  said  she  was  a  very 
good  woman.  One  night  she  dreamed  that 
she  went  up  to  heaven  and  one  of  the  angels 
showed  her  through  the  streets  of  the  beauti- 
ful city.  She  saw  such  beautiful  houses  and 
palaces  as  she  had  never  seen  before.  At 
last  she  came  to  one  that  was  just  being  built. 
It  was  more  beautiful  than  those  around  it, 
and  she  asked  her  guide  whose  it  was. 
"Oh,"  said  the  angel,  "that  is  for  your 
gardener."  The  lady  was  much  surprised 
and  said  :  **  For  my  gardener !  Why,  he  is 
only  a  poor  man  and  has  always  lived  in  a 
little  bit  of  a  house."  The  angel  said  nothing, 
but  led  her  on  through  the  streets  and  avenues 
of  the  city.  Soon  they  came  to  a  plain  look- 
ing house,  low-roofed,  and  very  simple.  Of 
course  it  too  was  beautiful,  for  everything  is 
beautiful  in  heaven,  but  it  was  not  like  the 
83 


84  Children's  Story-Sermons 

other  fine  palaces  she  had  seen.  Then  she 
asked  the  angel  whose  the  little  low  cottage 
house  was.  The  angel  said,  "  This  is  to  be 
your  house."  "Mine?"  said  the  lady.  "Why, 
I  have  always  lived  in  a  mansion  down  on 
the  earth."  "  Yes,  I  know,"  said  the  angel, 
"  but  the  Great  Builder  is  doing  the  best  He 
can  with  the  material  that  is  being  sent  up." 
That  is  a  strange  dream,  but  you  know  what 
it  means.  We  are  all  building  our  lives  and 
characters  for  heaven,  and  we  are  doing  it 
now.  Every  kind  deed,  and  every  true  word 
and  every  beautiful  thought  are  stones  in  the 
building.  The  kind  of  house  we  will  live  in 
will  depend  on  the  kind  of  stuff  we  are  putting 
into  our  lives  now.  There  is  a  hymn  we  sing 
in  the  Sunday-school,  and  it  runs  like  this : 

«*  Building,  daily  building,  while  the  moments  fly 
We  are  ever  building— -life-work  for  on  high. 
Character  we're  building — thoughts  and  actions  free 
Make  for  us  a  building  for  eternity." 

Next  time  you  sing  it,  think  of  this  rich  lady's 
dream. 


XXX  ^/ 

The  Story  of  a  Bad  Boy 

This  is  a  story  told  by  the  president  of  one 
of  our  great  universities.  So  it  must  be  well 
worth  hearing".  It  was  out  West,  in  a  graded 
school.  He  belonged  to  the  seventh  grade 
and  had  been  sent  up  to  the  principal  so 
often  that  at  last  he  was  told  to  report  at  the 
office  after  school.  You  know  what  that 
means.  Well,  when  school  was  dismissed 
the  bad  boy  found  himself  seated  at  the 
principal's  desk  copying  out  on  a  white  sheet 
of  paper  all  the  offenses  he  had  committed 
during  the  year.  When  he  had  written  for 
five  minutes  he  showed  the  record  to  the 
principal.  The  principal  opened  a  drawer  in 
the  desk  and  took  out  a  record  book  and 
turning  to  the  bad  boy^s  name  began  to 
read  the  record  he  had  kept  of  every  offense 
for  which  the  boy  had  been  punished  during 
the  year.  Again  the  boy  set  to  work  to  make 
the  record  of  his  bad  deeds  complete.  After 
several  reminders  by  the  principal,  the  list 
was  finished  and  it  was  long  and  black  and 
85 


86  Children's  Story-Sermons 

bad.  The  boy  was  then  supplied  with  fresh 
paper  and  told  to  write  a  sentence  or  two 
about  each  offense,  explaining  why  it  had 
been  committed.  By  this  time  the  bad 
boy  was  beginning  to  know  pretty  thor- 
oughly his  own  long,  bad  record.  When 
the  task  was  ended  he  was  told  to  write  out 
all  he  had  written  on  clean,  white  paper.  He 
was  tired  and  hungry  when  he  finished,  and 
the  darkness  was  casting  shadows  in  the 
room.  "Now,"  said  the  principal,  ''take 
this  sheet  and  with  pen  and  ink  make  as 
good  a  copy  as  you  can  and  we  will  send  it 
home  to  your  mother."  But  the  boy  refused 
this  time  to  obey,  and  the  tears  were  in  his 
eyes.  "Why  not?"  said  the  principal. 
*•  Because  I  don't  want  mother  to  know  about 
this."  "  But  doesn't  your  mother  know  what 
sort  of  a  boy  you  are  ?  "  "  No,  she  doesn't," 
said  the  bad  boy.  "  Does  she  think  you're 
a  good  boy?"  asked  the  principal.  And 
through  the  tears  that  were  surprising  both 
the  boy  and  the  principal,  he  said,  "Yes." 
"And  so,"  said  the  principal,  "you  don't 
want  your  mother  to  know  what  sort  of  a 
boy  you  are  at  school.  But  I  don't  see  how 
we  can  help  it,  for  I  have  tried  everything 
with  you.  Let  me  think  a  minute."  The 
principal  walked  up  and  down  the  room  as 


The  Story  of  a  Bad  Boy  87 

the  boy  tried  to  dry  away  the  tears  he  was 
ashamed   of,  and  then  standing  before  the 
lad,  said,  "  Do  you  think  you  could  be  the 
sort  of  boy  your  mother  thinks  you  are?" 
The  boy  thought  he  could.     ''Well,  then  I'll 
tell  you  what  we'll  do.     We  will  place  what 
you  have  written  in  this  large  envelope  and 
seal  it  and  put  it  away  in  my  safe.     If  you 
are  not  sent  up  to  me  again  this  year,  we 
will  just  put  the  whole  thing  in  the  furnace 
and  say  no  more  about  it."     There  was  a 
lump  in  the  boy's  throat  and  he  didn't  say 
anything,  and  so  that  is  all  there  is  to  the 
story.     No,  not  all.     That  is  all  that  is  bad, 
perhaps,  but  there  is  lots  of  good  to  be  added 
to  the  story,  for  the  boy  never  troubled  the 
teacher  after  that   and  was  the   principal's 
loyal  friend  to  the  end  of  school. 

It  is  something  like  this  that  God  does  for 
us  with  all  our  wrong-doing  and  bad  con- 
duct and  wicked,  sinful  thoughts  and  words 
and  acts.  If  we  are  only  willing  to  give  up 
our  wrong  ways,  God  will  forgive  and  for- 
get all  the  past.  Listen  to  what  He  says  He 
will  do  with  our  sins  when  we  are  willing  to 
do  what  He  would  like  to  have  us  do  : 

I.  He  says  He  will  remove  them  as  far  as 
the  east  is  from  the  west.  Could  you  measure 
the  length  of  that  distance  ? 


88  Children's  Story-Sermons 

2.  He  says  He  will  remember  them  no 
more. 

3.  He  says  He  will  cast  them  behind  His 
back. 

4.  He  says  He  will  cast  them  into  the 
depths  of  the  sea. 

5.  He  says  He  will  blot  them  out  as  a 
thick  cloud. 

When  boys  and  girls  know  what  a  loving 
and  forgiving  friend  they  have  in  God  they 
become  His  loving  and  loyal  friends  forever. 


XXXI 

The  Hidden  Ring 

Once  upon  a  time — that  sounds  like  a 
fairy  story,  and  perhaps  it  is — a  beautiful 
princess  was  given  a  silver  egg  as  a  wedding 
present.  She  was  surprised  to  get  it  and 
wondered  why  anybody  could  be  so  foolish 
as  to  give  her  a  silver  eggy  for  she  didn't 
know  what  use  she  could  make  cf  it,  but 
when  she  handled  it  she  touched  a  little 
secret  spring  and  found  inside  the  egg  a 
yellow  yolk  of  pure  gold.  Then  she  was 
curious  and  began  to  feel  the  shining  gold, 
when  what  do  you  think  happened  ?  It  too 
flew  open,  and  there  inside  was  a  beautiful, 
beautiful  bird.  So  she  held  the  bird  in  her 
hand,  and  when  she  pressed  the  wings  of  the 
bird  she  found  in  its  breast  the  prettiest  little 
jewel  crown,  bright  with  many  colours,  and 
then  inside  the  crown,  which  opened  also  by 
a  secret  spring,  she  found  a  ring  with  beauti- 
ful diamonds  which  exactly  fitted  the  finger 
of  the  princess  herself. 

Now,  boys  and  girls,  life  is  just  like  that. 
When  we  are  little  we  don't  see  its  real 
89 


90  Children's  Story-Sermons 

meaning,  but  as  the  years  go  by  and  the 
secret  springs  open  up  new  treasures,  little 
by  little  and  more  and  more  we  get  to  see 
that  after  all  there  is  something  strange  about 
it,  and  at  last  at  the  very  end  we  find  some- 
thing that  is  exactly  suited  for  ourselves,  and 
for  no  one  else.  I  wonder  if  you  ever  ask 
yourself  what  you  are  doing  here,  and  what 
God  means  you  to  do  and  what  He  means 
you  to  be  ?  Perhaps  you  can't  answer  those 
questions  now  but  if  you  will  follow  Him 
day  by  day  and  year  by  year,  at  last  He  will 
lead  you  to  see  that  He  has  something  much 
more  beautiful  for  you  than  you  could  have 
discovered  for  yourself. 


XXXII 

A  Little  Lost  Bird 

When  we  left  the  great  city  of  Liverpool, 
it  was  beginning  to  grow  dark,  and  the  dark- 
ness was  already  drifting  up  the  river.  We 
were  starting  on  the  long  voyage  across  the 
wide  ocean  on  the  Empress  of  Britam  and 
the  great  sea-gulls  were  following  the  big 
ship  expecting  their  evening  meal,  but  as  the 
night  fell  and  we  reached  the  open  sea  and 
the  land  began  to  fade  away,  they  stopped 
following  the  ship  and  returned  to  the  quieter 
waters  of  the  river. 

When  the  morning  broke  we  were  far  out 
upon  the  deep,  deep  sea,  but  we  noticed  a 
little  land  bird  sitting  in  the  rigging  of  the 
ship  and  singing  a  good-morning  song.  We 
had  passed  by  all  sight  of  land  and  were  too 
far  from  home  for  the  little  bird  to  return. 
What  could  it  do,  and  why  was  it  there? 
We  wondered  why  it  had  left  home.  Had  it 
been  naughty  or  angry,  or  had  its  own  little 
restless  nature  led  it  out  and  out  and  on  and 
on  until  it  lost  all  thought  of  home  and  it  was 
too  late  to  return  ?  Nobody  knew,  but  there 
91 


92  Children's  Story-Sermons 

it  was  and  there  it  took  up  its  home  and,  like 
Noah's  dove,  waited  in  sweet  content,  finding 
no  other  place  to  rest  its  little  feet. 

The  sailors  saw  it,  watched  it  and  fed  it 
with  crumbs  they  gathered  at  their  own  meal, 
and  it  drank  from  the  water  on  the  ship's 
deck.  Once  or  twice  a  day  we  saw  it  strike 
out  from  the  ship  as  if  at  last  it  had  decided 
to  return  home,  but  in  a  few  minutes  back  it 
came  out  of  the  haze  to  find  rest  in  some 
hidden  place  about  the  great  boat. 

So  it  lived  on  through  the  eventless  days 
of  the  voyage  until  we  reached  the  shores  of 
the  new  world,  where  we  lost  it  among  the 
rocks  and  hills  of  Labrador.  I  suppose  it  has 
there  found  some  new  companions  and  is 
glad  for  the  freer  and  larger  life,  which  for  a 
while  had  been  denied  to  it. 

Whether  we  will  or  not,  you  and  I  must 
make  our  way  across  the  great  sea  of  life.  It 
is  all  so  strange  and  so  fearful-like,  with  the 
great  sea  never  still  and  the  darkness  coming 
down  in  the  night  and  the  fog  thickening 
around.  There  is  only  one  way  by  which  we 
can  safely  cross  to  the  other  side.  We  must 
keep  close  to  where  safety  lies.  There  is  in 
the  Bible  one  of  the  most  wonderful  stories 
of  the  sea  that  was  ever  written.  It  is  a  story 
of  storm  and  shipwreck,  and  in  the  story 


A  Little  Lost  Bird  93 

there  is  a  verse  which  reads  like  this  :  "  Ex- 
cept these  abide  in  the  ship  they  cannot  be 
saved."  It  was  well  for  all  on  board  that  day 
that  they  stayed  close  to  the  ship,  and  it  will  be 
well  for  us.  We  speak  of  Jesus  as  our  Pilot, 
and  so  He  is,  but  He  is  also  the  ship,  and 
with  Him  in  the  deepest  fog  and  out  on  the 
darkest  sea,  you  and  I  will  be  as  safe  as  was 
the  little  bird  that  kept  us  company  across 
the  great  oceaa 


>hey  T 


XXXIII 

The  Tree  on  the  Chimney  Top 

Over  in  a  little  Scottish  town,  called 
Stewarton,  near  the  country  where  Robert 
Burns  lived  and  where  my  father  and  mother 
played  together  as  children,  there  is  one  of  the 
most  interesting  things  I  ever  saw.  I  had 
often  heard  it  spoken  about  in  my  home 
and  when  visiting  there  not  long  ago  I 
discovered  it  for  myself.  By  the  side  of  a 
little  stream — the  Scotch  people  call  it  a  burn 
— there  is  a  mill,  and  on  the  mill  there  is  a 
great  tall  chimney — the  Scotch  people  call  it  a 
lum — and  on  the  chimney,  at  the  very  top, 
there  is  a  little  tree  about  as  high  as  a  man 
and  as  slender  as  a  broomstick.  It  has  been 
growing  there  for  I  don't  know  how  long.  It 
was  there  when  my  mother  was  a  girl  and 
after  she  had  been  away  for  nearly  fifty  years 
she  returned  to  visit  her  native  town  and  it 
was  still  there  and  seemed  no  bigger  and  no 
taller  and  was  just  as  healthy  and  just  as 
hearty  as  it  ever  had  been.  There  it  has 
grown,  high  in  the  air,  fifty  feet  or  more  from 
the  ground  and  has  stood  against  wind  and 
94 


The  Tree  on  the  Chimney  Top       95 

weather,  summer  and  winter,  during  all  these 
many  years. 

How  does.itHve?  Why  does  it  not  die? 
You  can  see  the  reason  if  you  look  carefully, 
for  you  will  find  that  it  has  a  little  root  run- 
ning from  the  chimney  top  right  down  the  side 
of  the  wall,  which  at  last  buries  itself  in  the 
rich  soil  beside  the  little  stream.  That  root 
feeds  the  tree  and  in  this  way  it  has  lived  for 
nearly  a  hundred  years. 

Do  you  remember  when  Jesus  was  talking 
once  about  men  and  women  and  boys  and 
girls  who  began  well,  who  promised  big 
things,  who  were  enthusiastic  and  had  lots  to 
say  and  then  after  a  while  grew  lazy  and 
indifferent,  and  lost  their  interest  in  church 
and  Sunday-school  and  all  other  good  things, 
He  said  the  reason  was  that  they  had  no  root 
and  like  a  rootless  tree  they  soon  withered 
away  ?  See  that  the  root  goes  down  deep. 
The  deeper  the  better.  The  root  feeds  the 
life. 

The  root  of  the  mind  is  study  and  thought. 

The  root  of  the  body  is  food  and  exercise. 

The  root  of  the  conscience  is  duty  and 
truth. 

The  root  of  the  soul  is  service  and  prayer 
and  Bible  study  and  God. 


XXXIV 

A  Child  Who  Was  a  King 

I  DON'T  know  whether  I  can  tell  you  this 
story  so  that  you  will  understand  it  or  not, 
but  I  will  try.  Louis  XVI  was  the  last  king 
of  France.  The  people  of  France  put  him  to 
death,  and  after  that  they  had  presidents  for 
their  rulers,  just  as  we  have. 

When  Louis  XVI  died,  he  left  behind  him 
a  little  son  who  would  have  been  Louis  XVII, 
if  the  change  had  not  been  made  in  the  gov- 
ernment of  his  country.  This  little  boy  was 
kept  a  prisoner,  and  the  people  who  had  him 
in  charge  tried  to  do  everything  they  could 
to  make  him  forget  that  he  had  a  king  for 
his  father,  and  tried  to  fill  his  mind  with  bad 
thoughts  and  bad  feelings  and  bad  words. 
He  was  a  sensitive  and  nervous  little  fellow, 
and  having  been  born  in  a  cultured  home  and 
with  the  blood  of  royalty  in  his  body,  he 
turned  away  from  the  bad  men  who  vexed 
and  annoyed  him  and  tried  to  forget  their 
wicked  teaching.  Sometimes  they  would 
press  him  too  hard  and  tempt  him  too  much, 
and  then  he  would  turn  away  from  them  and 
96 


A  Child  Who  Was  a  King  97 

say  through  his  tears :  **  I  can't  say  it.  I 
can't  do  it,  for  I  was  born  to  be  king."  I 
think  he  must  have  been  a  brave  boy. 

Every  boy  and  girl  is  the  child  of  a  King. 
We,  too,  have  been  born  into  a  royal  family. 
God  means  that  we  shall  reign  with  Him. 
The  Bible  says  ;  ''  We  know  not  what  we 
shall  be,  but  we  know  that  when  He  shall 
appear  we  shall  be  like  Him."  Whenever 
you  are  tempted  to  say  a  bad  word,  or  to 
think  a  bad  thought,  or  to  have  a  bad  feeling, 
or  to  do  a  bad  thing,  remember  that  you,  too, 
were  born  to  be  a  king. 


XXXV 

Writing  With  Ink 

I  REMEMBER  hearing  a  story  when  I  was  a 
boy,  which  I  have  never  forgotten,  and  which 
I  would  like  to  tell  to  you.  It  is  about  a 
little  boy  who  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  very 
bad  and  naughty  things  and  his  father  had 
tried  in  every  way  he  knew  to  break  him  of 
it.  At  last  he  said  to  the  boy,  whose  name 
was  Harvey :  ''  Harvey,  Til  tell  you  what 
we'll  do.  Every  time  you  do  something 
wrong,  I'll  nail  a  nail  in  the  old  wood-shed 
door  so  you  can  see  how  often  you  have  been 
naughty,  and  perhaps  that  will  make  you 
ashamed  and  cause  you  to  be  more  careful." 
So,  day  after  day,  more  nails  were  seen  on 
the  old  door,  until  at  last  Harvey  became 
ashamed  and  began  to  correct  his  faults  and 
to  do  better.  Then  every  time  he  did  some- 
thing kind,  his  father  drew  one  of  the  nails 
out  of  the  door  until  at  last  every  nail  was 
gone  again.  His  father  took  his  boy  out  to 
see  the  last  nail  drawn,  and  was  happy  to 
think  that  Harvey  had  ceased  to  be  bad  and 
had  become  quite  a  good  boy.  When  they 
98 


Writing  With  Ink  99 

were  turning  away  from  the  place,  his  father 
noticed  the  tears  in  Harvey's  eyes,  and  asked 
him  what  was  the  matter.  "  Oh,"  he  said, 
"the  nails  are  all  gone,  but  the  marks  are 
there  yet." 

So  you  see,  boys  and  girls,  that  even 
though  we  have  been  forgiven  for  the  wicked 
things  we  have  done,  sometimes  the  marks 
are  left  in  our  lives.  Let  us  be  careful  and 
try  to  live  so  that  we  will  not  have  to  undo 
what  we  once  did.  Here  are  some  lines  of 
poetry  that  I  want  you  to  learn.  I  have  read 
them  often,  and  I  think  you  will  like  to  read 
them  too : 


**  My  little  boy  came  home  from  school  to-day, 

With  his  heart  in  a  flurry  of  glee  ; 
'  Oh,  papa,  they  have  taken  our  pencils  away. 

And  I'm  writing  with  ink,*  said  he; 
And  his  breast  is  filled  with  a  manly  pride, 

For  it  joys  him  much  to  think 
He  has  laid  his  pencil  and  slate  aside, 

And  is  writing  his  words  with  ink. 


'*  Oh,  innocent  child,  could  you  guess  the  truth, 

You  would  ask  of  the  years  to  stay, 
'Mid  the  slate  and  pencil  cares  of  youth. 

That  a  tear  will  wash  away. 
For  out  in  the  great  wide  world  of  men. 

The  wrongs  we  do  or  think 
Can  never  be  blotted  out  again, 

For  we  write  them  all  with  ink." 


XXXVI 
A  Boy  Hero 

His  name  was  John  Coleridge  Patteson. 
The  world  knows  him  as  Bishop  Patteson. 
He  was  a  great  missionary  to  the  South  Sea 
Islands,  and  he  was  killed  by  the  bad  men 
whom  he  tried  to  make  good.  He  had 
landed  on  the  island  to  speak  some  words  of 
peace  to  the  savage  natives,  but  they  killed 
him  before  he  could  speak  to  them  and  put 
his  dead  body  in  an  open  boat  and  sent  it  out  to 
sea.  That  was  the  kind  of  man  he  was.  He 
was  a  brave,  good,  strong  man,  and  brave, 
good,  strong  men  are  made  out  of  brave, 
good,  strong  boys. 

When  he  was  a  boy  in  school,  he  was  cap- 
tain of  the  cricket  team.  You  know  cricket 
is  the  national  game  in  England  just  as  base- 
ball is  with  us,  and  he  was  one  of  the  best 
cricket  players  in  the  college.  After  one  of 
the  games  at  which  his  team  had  won,  the 
boys  were  full  of  merrymaking,  and  soon 
began  to  tell  silly  jokes  and  to  use  bad  words. 
At  last  Collie — that  was  what  they  called 
him — could  stand  it  no  longer,  and  rose  up 

lOO 


A  Boy  Hero  loi 

from  his  place  and  said  clearly  in  his  own 
boyish  voice :  **  I  must  leave  the  team  if  this 
talk  goes  on.  I'll  not  share  in  it,  and  I'll  not 
listen  to  it.  If  it  goes  on  I  must  leave  the 
room  and  resign  from  the  team."  And  he 
did  leave  the  room,  and  he  did  resign.  Now, 
you  know  what  that  meant  when  he  was  the 
best  player.  They  gathered  around  him  and 
pled  with  him  not  to  leave  them  and  prom- 
ised that  they  would  never  again  annoy  him 
with  their  bad  language  and  unclean  stories, 
and  he  went  back  and  led  the  team  to  vic- 
tory. 

A  boy  who  is  ashamed  to  do  right,  to  tell 
the  truth,  to  shun  bad  companions,  to  speak 
against  bad  language  and  all  meanness,  is  a 
cow^ard,  and  the  boy  who  is  not  ashamed  to 
do  right,  even  if  he  must  stand  all  alone,  is  a 
hero. 


XXXVII 

Little  Shadi's  Prayer 

All  the  little  boys  and  girls  that  I  know 
like  to  pray.  Each  one  of  them  has  a  little 
prayer  of  his  own.  Sometimes  it  is  one  given 
by  the  child's  mother,  and  sometimes  it  is 
one  the  litde  child  makes  for  himself.  Of 
course  it  is  not  a  prayer  like  a  grandfather  or 
a  grandmother  would  make,  and  I  guess  it 
ought  not  to  be  like  grandfather's  or  grand- 
mother's. Grandmothers  and  grandfathers 
can  have  their  own  kind  of  prayers,  but,  after 
all,  a  little  child's  prayer  is  about  the  best  I 
know. 

I  want  to  tell  you  a  story  about  a  little 
boy's  prayer.  His  name  was  Shadi.  He 
lived  far  away  in  India.  He  was  a  litde 
orphan  boy,  and  when  he  was  just  six  years 
old  he  went  to  live  with  a  missionary  lady, 
who  was  very  kind  to  him  and  taught  him  to 
love  Jesus,  and  gave  him  a  little  prayer  for 
his  own.  One  night  when  he  was  going  to 
bed,  his  missionary  mother  said  to  him,  "  Now, 
Shadi,  I  want  you  to  pray  a  little  prayer  of 
your  own."     What  do  you  think  this  litde 

I02 


Little  Shadi's  Prayer  103 

boy's  prayer  was  ?  It  was  very  short,  for 
you  know  he  was  only  six  years  old  and  it  is 
only  old  people  who  make  very  long  prayers. 
This  was  what  he  said :  **  Dear  Jesus,  make 
me  like  what  you  were  when  you  were  six 
years  old."  Don't  you  think  that  was  a  good 
prayer  for  a  little  six-year-old  boy  ?  To  be 
like  Jesus  was  when  He  was  only  six  years 
old  would  be  the  very  best  thing  in  all  the 
world  for  a  little  boy  who  was  just  six  years 
old  himself.  Boys  and  girls  ought  not  to  be 
like  their  fathers  and  mothers  and  grand- 
fathers and  grandmothers,  for  they  must  not 
have  old  heads  on  young  shoulders,  but  must 
be  just  as  sweet  and  simple  and  childlike  as 
we  are  sure  Jesus  was  when  He  was  a  little 
boy  in  His  mother's  home. 


XXXVIII 
The  Three  Golden  Apples 

Did  you  ever  know  a  girl  who  was  called 
by  the  name  of  Atalanta  ?  The  only  person 
I  know  by  that  name  was  a  Greek  princess. 
Although  she  lived  so  very  long  ago,  yet  she 
was  much  like  the  girls  of  to-day.  First  of 
all,  she  was  very  beautiful — so  beautiful  that 
all  the  young  men  who  knew  her  wanted  to 
marry  her.  Then  she  was  very  fond  of 
athletics.  She  could  run  faster  than  any  one 
else,  and  she  liked  to  live  and  romp  in  the 
open  air.  She  said  that  she  would  never 
marry  any  one  who  couldn't  run  faster  than 
she  could.  Her  beauty  attracted  so  very 
many  young  men  who  wanted  to  race  with 
her,  that  in  order  to  be  free  from  their  plead- 
ings she  said  that  those  who  failed  to  win  in 
the  race  would  be  put  to  death.  She  thought 
that  would  keep  them  from  bothering  her,  but 
still  they  came  and  tried  to  win  the  race,  but 
were  always  beaten  and  always    punished. 

One  day  a  very  handsome  prince  came  and 
asked  her  to  marry  him,  and  said  he  was 
willing  to  run  the  race  with  her.  But  she 
104 


The  Three  Golden  Apples  105 

was  very  fleet-footed,  and  he  soon  found  that 
she  could  outrun  him.  He  was  a  very  clever 
young  man,  however,  and  when  he  found 
that  he  was  being  beaten  he  took  from  his 
robe  a  golden  apple,  which  he  had  hidden 
there  for  the  very  purpose,  and  threw  it  on 
the  road  ahead  of  her.  Atalanta  saw  it,  and 
was  so  surprised  and  so  eager  to  secure  it, 
that  she  stopped  for  a  moment  to  pick  it  up. 
While  she  was  picking  it  up,  he  ran  past 
her  and  so  gained  some  little  distance. 
A  second  time  as  she  was  gaining  on 
him,  he  cast  another  golden  apple,  and  again 
she  stopped  long  enough  to  get  it.  A  third 
time,  when  the  goal  was  almost  reached,  he 
flung  the  last  golden  apple  at  her  feet,  and  as 
she  stooped  to  pick  it  up  he  ran  on  ahead  of 
her,  past  the  goal,  and  the  race  was  won. 

The  Bible  often  speaks  of  life  as  a  race. 
We  are  to  run  the  race  that  is  set  before  us 
looking  unto  Jesus.  We  are  not  to  look  to 
the  right  hand,  or  to  the  left,  but  to  keep 
right  on.  The  boy  or  the  girl  who  turns 
aside  from  the  right  path  to  gather  the 
pleasures  of  the  world  may  at  last  lose  the 
race.  There  are  many  things  that  God 
means  us  to  enjoy,  but  we  must  not  wander 
from  our  purpose,  or  lose  the  path  in  order  to 
secure  them. 


The  Broken  Vase 

A  HUNDRED  years  ago  there  lived  in  Eng- 
land a  great  potter.  You  know  a  potter  is  a 
man  who  makes  beautiful  things  out  of  clay. 
His  name  was  Josiah  Wedgwood,  and  the 
things  he  made  are  now  very,  very  rare  and 
costly. 

One  day  an  English  nobleman  came  to  see 
him  in  his  great  factory  and  to  visit  and 
study  the  works.  One  of  his  employees, 
a  little  lad  of  about  fifteen  years,  went  with 
the  nobleman  and  explained  to  him  how  the 
work  was  done.  Now,  this  nobleman  was  a 
man  who  didn't  believe  in  God,  and  who, 
while  he  was  smart,  yet  was  very  rough  in 
his  speech  and  used  many  bad  words  and 
made  light  of  sacred  things.  The  boy  was 
at  first  greatly  shocked  at  the  nobleman's 
wicked  words,  but  after  a  while  laughed  at 
his  smart  remarks.  Mr.  Wedgwood,  who 
followed  them,  heard  much  of  the  conversa- 
tion and  was  very  indignant  at  the  way  in 
which  the  nobleman  spoke  before  the  boy. 
When  they  came  back  to  the  office,  Mr 
io6 


The  Broken  Vase  107 

Wedgwood  picked  out  a  very  beautiful 
vase  of  the  choicest  pattern,  and  holding  it 
in  his  hands,  told  the  nobleman  the  long  and 
careful  way  in  which  it  had  been  made.  The 
nobleman  was  greatly  pleased  with  the  ex- 
planation and  was  much  charmed  with  the 
beautiful  shape  and  colour  and  design  of  the 
vase,  and  reached  out  his  hand  to  take  it. 
Just  as  he  touched  it,  however,  the  owner  let 
it  fall  to  the  ground,  and  his  visitor  uttering 
an  angry  word  said,  "  I  wanted  that  one  for 
myself,  and  now  it  is  ruined  by  your  careless- 
ness." "My  lord,"  said  the  old  potter, 
"there  are  things  more  precious  than  any 
vase, — things  which  when  ruined  can  never  be 
restored.  I  can  make  another  vase  like  this 
for  you,  but  you  can  never  give  back  to  the 
boy,  who  has  just  left  us,  the  simple  faith  and 
the  pure  heart  which  you  have  destroyed  by 
making  light  of  sacred  things  and  by  using 
impure  words  in  his  presence." 

Don't  you  think  that  was  a  good  sermon 
for  a  great  nobleman?  I  have  heard  men 
say  that  they  would  give  their  right  arm 
if  they  could  forget  some  of  the  things 
they  heard  when  they  were  boys.  "  Enter 
not  into  the  path  of  the  wicked,  and  go  not 
m  the  way  of  evil  men.  Avoid  it,  pass  not 
by  it,  turn  from  it  and  pass  away." 


4n 


XL 

Who  Is  the  Prettiest  Girl  ? 

I  THINK  girls  are  the  queerest  things  in  all 
the  world.  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  story 
about  three  young  girls  who  quarrelled 
among  themselves  as  to  who  had  the  most 
beautiful  hands.  Don't  you  think  that  was 
a  funny  thing  to  quarrel  about?  One  of 
them  dipped  her  hands  in  the  beautiful  clear 
water  of  the  running  brook,  and  said,  "  See 
how  white  and  pretty  my  hands  are."  The 
second  one  gathered  berries  until  her  fingers 
were  pink,  just  as  if  she  had  coloured  them 
most  beautifully.  The  third  girl  walked 
among  the  flowers  and  picked  the  roses  until 
her  hands  were  sweet  with  the  perfume,  but 
still  they  couldn't  decide  whose  hands  were 
the  most  beautiful.  Did  I  say  there  were  three 
girls  ?  Well,  there  were  four.  But  the  fourth 
girl  didn't  quarrel  about  her  beauty,  for  she 
didn't  think  she  had  any  to  quarrel  about. 
Then  an  old  woman  came  along,  poor  and 
wrinkled  and  old.  She  was  a  beggar  and 
asked  each  of  the  girls  for  something  to  eat, 
but  each  of  the  three  put  her  hands  behind 
io8 


Who  is  the  Prettiest  Girl  ?         109 

her  and  said  she  had  nothing  to  give.  But 
the  fourth  girl  gave  her  of  what  she  had, 
and  then  the  face  of  the  poor  old  woman  be- 
gan to  shine  and  became  lovelier  than  any 
face  they  had  ever  seen,  and  she  said,  "  It's 
not  the  hands  that  are  dipped  in  the  brook, 
nor  the  hands  that  are  painted  by  the  berries, 
nor  the  hands  that  are  perfumed  by  the  flowers 
that  are  the  most  beautiful,  but  the  hands 
that  give  to  the  poor,"  and  as  she  said  those 
words  she  changed — for  you  know  this  is  a 
fairy  story — she  changed  into  a  beautiful 
angel,  and  before  they  could  say  anything  to 
her  she  was  gone. 

I  think  you  know  what  this  story  means. 
It  means  that  the  most  lovely  beauty  in  all  the 
world  is  the  beauty  which  comes  from  sweet- 
ness and  goodness  and  kindness  and  love, 
and  these  belong  to  our  hearts  and  minds 
rather  than  to  our  faces  and  our  hands. 

*'  Beautiful  faces  are  those  that  wear, 
It  matters  httle  if  dark  or  fair, 
Whole-souled  honesty  printed  there. 

"  Beautiful  hands  are  tl^ose  that  do 
Work  that  is  earnest,  brave  and  true, 
Moment  by  moment  the  long  day  through, 

**  Beautiful  feet  are  they  iliat  go. 
On  kindly  ministry  to  and  fro, 
Down  lowliest  ways,  if  God  wills  so." 


The  Son  of  a  Soldier 

General  Havelock  was  one  of  the  great 
soldiers  of  the  British  army.  He  was  a  great 
man  and  a  good  man  who  fought  in  the 
war  in  India.  He  used  to  rise  at  three  or  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning  to  read  his  Bible. 
When  he  was  at  home  he  lived  in  London 
with  his  wife  and  little  boy,  whose  name  was 
Henry. 

When  Henry  was  perhaps  ten  or  twelve 
years  old,  he  and  his  father  went  out  together, 
and  during  the  afternoon  when  they  were 
crossing  London  Bridge  his  father,  thinking 
of  another  engagement,  said  to  his  son : 
"  Henry,  you  stay  here  on  the  bridge  until  I 
come  back  for  you."  Now,  London  Bridge 
at  that  time  was  a  very  interesting  place.  It 
was  crowded  with  stores  and  shops  and  in- 
teresting people,  and  Henry  was  quite  at 
home  there.  His  father  went  to  his  own  work 
and  became  so  interested  in  it  that  he  forgot 
all  about  his  boy,  and  when  the  work  was 
ended  he  went  ofl  home  to  his  supper,  where 
a  friend  was  waiting  for  him  who  had  been 
no 


The  Son  of  a  Soldier  111 

invited  to  dine  at  his  home  that  night.  Dur- 
ing the  evening  meal,  Mrs.  Havelock  looked 
up  and  said  to  her  husband :  *'  My  dear, 
where  is  Henry  ?  "  for  she  knew  that  they 
had  gone  out  together  early  in  the  afternoon 
and   that  she  had  not  seen   the   boy   since. 

The  general  sprang  to  his  feet.  *'  Poor 
fellow,"  he  said,  "  I  guess  Henry  is  standing 
on  London  Bridge  waiting  for  me.  I  left  him 
there  early  in  the  afternoon  and  told  him  to 
wait  for  me,  and  I  forgot  all  about  the  ap- 
pointment." Leaving  his  guest,  he  called  a 
cab  and  drove  to  London  Bridge,  where  he 
found  Henry  just  where  he  left  him  and  they 
came  home  smiling.  "  You  see,  sir,"  said 
General  Havelock  to  his  friend,  "  this  is  the 
kind  of  obedience  which  is  seen  in  a  soldier's 
family." 

We  can't  all  be  soldiers  and  generals  and 
sons  of  soldiers,  but  we  can  all  be  obedient, 
just  as  obedient  as  soldiers  are,  for  indeed, 
after  all,  we  are  soldiers — the  soldiers  of  a 
greater  King  than  this  world  knows — and 
Jesus  is  our  Captain,  the  Captain  of  our  sal- 
vation. 


XLII 

The  Prince  of  Wales 

You  know  the  eldest  son  of  the  King  of 
England  is  called  the  Prince  of  Wales.  Once 
when  Edward  VII,  who  died  only  a  short  time 
ago,  was  Prince  of  Wales  he  was  in  school 
at  Eton,  and  one  of  the  boys  who  did  not 
know  him  asked  him  his  name,  whom  he 
lived  with,  and  where  he  lived.  You  see  he 
was  an  inquisitive  boy,  and  so  the  future  King 
of  England  said  to  him  :  "  My  name  is  Wales. 
I  live  with  my  mother,  and  my  home  is  at 
Windsor  Castle."  He  was  Prince  of  Wales 
for  a  very  long  time.  I  wonder  if  you  know 
why  the  eldest  son  of  the  King  of  England  is 
called  the  Prince  of  Wales  ?  If  you  listen,  I 
will  tell  you. 

Many  years  ago  the  little  country  of  Wales 
was  a  kingdom  all  by  itself  and  had  its  own 
government,  but  after  a  time  it  was  conquered 
by  England  and  became  part  of  the  British 
nation,  but  the  Welsh  people  were  not  very 
happy  and  not  very  contented  under  the 
English  rule.  Now  it  happened  that  one  of 
the  kings  of  England,  Edward  I,  loved  the 

112 


The  Prince  of  Wales  1 13 

Welsh  people  and  lived  in  their  country  and 
visited  in  their  homes,  and  promised  them 
that  some  day  he  would  give  them  a  prince 
of  their  own  who  would  rule  over  them.  The 
King  and  the  Queen  were  living  then  in  the 
wonderful  Castle  of  Caernarvon,  and  while 
there  in  the  year  1284  there  was  born  to  them 
a  little  baby  boy,  and  remembering  his 
promise  the  king  called  him  the  Prince  of 
Wales  and  he  afterwards  became  King  Ed- 
ward II.  The  Welsh  people  were  very  proud 
of  their  new  prince,  and  said,  "  Now  he  is 
one  of  our  very  own,  called  by  our  name  and 
born  in  our  country.  We'll  love  him  and 
we'll  serve  him." 

I  know  another  and  a  more  wonderful 
story  than  that,  about  another  Prince.  It  is 
a  Bible  story.  His  name  is  the  Prince  of 
Peace.  God  sent  His  own  Son  into  the  world, 
to  be  our  Prince  and  our  Saviour.  When  we 
come  to  know  Him,  we  love  Him  and  give 
our  hearts  wholly  to  Him,  and  at  last  He  be- 
comes what  I  hope  He  is  for  each  one  of  us 
— a  Saviour  and  a  King. 


XLIII 

Little  Faithful 

We  have  been  hearing  a  great  deal  lately 
about  the  North  Pole.  For  many  years 
people  have  tried  to  find  it,  and  at  last  it  has 
been  discovered  by  Peary  and  everybody  is 
satisfied. 

Some  years  ago  a  man  by  the  name  of 
Nansen  started  off  from  his  home  in  Europe 
to  go  far  into  the  cold  icy  country  of  the 
North  to  see  if  he  could  be  the  first  to  find 
the  long-sought  North  Pole.  He  was  a  very 
brave  man,  and  knew  what  it  was  to  stand 
the  cold  and  to  endure  hardship.  He  was 
gone  for  months  and  months,  and  no  one 
heard  anything  from  him.  His  wife  waited 
and  waited  and  waited,  but  no  word  came  and 
she  didn't  know  whether  he  was  living  or 
whether  he  had  died  in  that  lonely  land  of  the 
North.  One  day,  after  she  had  waited  for 
thirty  long,  long  months,  a  little  bird — a  little 
carrier  pigeon — came  to  her  window  and 
tapped  gently  on  the  pane.  She  had  been 
watching  for  this  little  messenger  for  many 
long  days,  for  when  her  husband  went  away 
114 


Little  Faithful  1 1 5 

he  took  with  him  some  little  carrier  pigeons,  so 
that  he  might  be  able  to  send  a  message  to  his 
home.  The  window  was  quickly  opened, 
and  the  little  messenger  was  lifted  in  and 
covered  with  kisses  by  the  poor  woman  who 
had  waited  so  long  for  word  from  her  hus- 
band. The  little  bird  had  come  straight  from 
the  North,  over  a  thousand  miles  of  ice  and  a 
thousand  miles  of  water  with  a  message  from 
the  explorer  to  his  wife,  which  said  that  all 
was  well. 

I  think  the  bird's  name  ought  to  be  "  Little 
Faithful."  How  quickly  it  went !  How 
straight  it  flew  !  Without  waiting  and  with- 
out turning  aside,  it  never  rested  until  it  was 
home.  Children  who  run  errands  for  their 
parents  might  learn  something  from  Little 
Faithful.  God  made  the  little  carrier  pigeon, 
and  taught  it  how  to  fly  and  where  to  go. 
People  call  it  instinct,  but  nobody  knows 
what  instinct  is.  God  can  put  His  own  faith- 
ful spirit  into  you  and  me,  so  that  we  will  go 
in  the  right  way  and  do  the  right  thing  and 
be  messengers  of  mercy  to  many  hearts,  and 
that  same  spirit  will  at  last  lead  us  on  over 
the  fair  fields  of  life  and  over  the  dark,  deep 
river  of  death  until  we  come  safely  to  our 
heavenly  Father's  Home. 


XLIV  / 

Fifty-Seven  Pennies 

Some  years  ago  in  the  great  city  of  Phila* 
delphia,  a  little  girl  came  to  a  small  Sunday- 
school  and  asked  to  be  taken  into  one  of  the 
classes.  The  classes  were  all  so  full  and  the 
church  was  so  small,  that  there  seemed  to  be 
no  room  for  her.  She  was  very  much  dis- 
appointed, and  although  she  was  very  poor 
she  began  to  save  her  pennies  so  that  the 
church  might  be  built  bigger,  and  that  she 
and  other  poor  little  children  might  have  a 
place  to  go  to  Sunday-school.  She  didn't 
tell  any  one  what  she  was  doing,  and  nobody 
knew  she  was  saving  the  few  pennies  that 
were  given  to  her  until  the  pastor  of  that  little 
church  called  at  her  bedside.  She  was  very 
sick,  oh,  so  sick,  and  after  a  little  while  God 
took  her  out  of  her  sufferings,  and  after  she  had 
passed  away  they  found  under  her  pillow  a 
little  old  red  pocketbook  and  in  it  they  found 
fifty-seven  pennies  that  she  had  saved,  and  a 
little  scrap  of  paper  on  which  was  written  the 
reason  why  she  had  saved  her  pennies,  and 
her  great  wish  that  she  might  help  to  build  a 
ii6 


Fifty-Seven  Pennies  117 

church  where  all  little  children  might  have  a 
place.  The  pcistor  who  conducted  the  funeral 
was  a  great,  good  man,  and  the  story  of 
that  little  pocketbook  and  those  fifty-seven 
pennies  got  into  the  papers  and  the  people 
read  about  it  with  tears  in  their  eyes.  It 
appealed  to  everybody.  She  was  only  a 
little  girl,  six  and  a  half  years  old,  and  what 
could  her  fifty-seven  pennies  do  ?  But  people 
began  to  give  the  pastor  of  the  little  church 
money,  and  then  more  money  and  more 
money,  and  in  six  years  those  fifty-seven 
pennies  had  become  $250,000.  To-day  if 
you  go  to  Philadelphia,  you  will  see  this  little 
girl's  picture  hanging  in  the  hall  of  Temple 
College,  where  over  fourteen  hundred  stu- 
dents attend,  and  that  college  is  connected 
with  a  great  church  called  the  Baptist  Temple, 
which  seats  eight  thousand  people,  and  con- 
nected with  that  church  is  a  hospital  for 
children,  called  the  Samaritan  Hospital. 
There  is  also  a  Sunday-school  building  there 
which  is  so  large  that  all  the  children  who 
want  to  attend  can  come  and  are  gladly  wel- 
comed. 

This  is  the  story  of  little  Hattie  May  Wiatt 
and  her  fifty-seven  pennies.  Such  a  good 
story  does  not  need  any  sermon. 


XLV 

A  Little  Prison  Flower 

This  is  the  story  of  a  little  flower  that 
grew  in  a  prison  cell  a  long,  long  time  ago. 
It  was  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  it  happened 
in  France.  One  would  think  a  flower  would 
not  grow  in  a  prison  but  it  did,  for  this  is  a 
true  story  and,  I  think,  a  very  pretty  one. 
The  Emperor  of  France  at  that  time  was  the 
great  Napoleon,  and  he  had  a  great  many 
friends  and  a  great  many  enemies.  He 
placed  in  prison  many  people  who  were  not 
pleased  at  the  way  he  did  things,  and  left 
them  there  to  suffer  and  sometimes  to  die. 

One  of  these  men  who  was  put  in  the 
prison  was  a  man  whose  name  was  Charney, 
and  I  suppose  the  emperor  soon  forgot  all 
about  him.  He  was  a  very  wise  man  and  a 
good  scholar,  but  he  didn't  believe  in  God, 
and  thought  that  God  had  forgotten  all  about 
him  and  so  he  could  forget  about  God.  You 
know  when  things  go  wrong  with  some  peo- 
ple, they  think  God  doesn't  care  for  them  any 
more.  This  man  wrote  on  the  walls  of  his 
prison  cell  the  words  :  **  All  things  come  by 
ii8 


A  Little  Prison  Flower  1 19 

chance."  He  couldn't  see  that  there  was  any 
God  who  cared  for  him,  and  so  he  thought 
that  everything  just  happened. 

One  day   when   he   was  walking  up   and 
down    in    his    cell,    he    saw    a    litde    tiny, 
green   blade  breaking  through  the  ground. 
The  ground  was  hard,  but  the  litde  green 
blade  had  broken  the  ground  quite  near  the 
wall   and  was   trying  to  creep  out  into  the 
light.     He  was  very  much  interested  in  it,  be- 
cause it  was  the  only  living  thing  around,  and 
he  cared  for  it  and  watered  it  and  by  and  by 
it  began  to  grow.     It  became  his  litde  friend 
and  teacher,  and  he  wondered  how  it  came 
there,  and  how  it  could  be  formed  and  made 
so  very  beautiful.     After  a  while  a  flower 
came  out,  and  it  was  white  and  purple  and 
rose-coloured  with  a  beautiful  white  fringe. 
The    man   began   to   think   and   think   and 
wonder,  and  after  a  while  -thoughts  of  God 
came  into  his  heart  and  he  rubbed  the  words 
that  he  had  written  from  the  wall,  and  wrote 
there  instead  these  words :  "  He  who  made 
all  things  is  God."      He  felt  happier  after 
that,  and  began  to  think  that  if  God  could 
care  for  the  litde  flower  in  the  prison  cell  and 
make  it  so  beautiful.  He  could  care  for  him. 

But  that  is  not  all  of  the  story.     There  was 
another  prisoner  in  that  great  prison  who  had 


1 20  Children's  Story-Sermons 

a  little  daughter  who  came  often  to  see  him. 
The  littie  girl  became  acquainted  with  Char- 
ney,  and  found  out  about  his  love  for  the  lit- 
tle flower,  and  each  day  when  she  came  to 
see  her  father  she  visited  the  flower  and  its 
friend,  and  saw  how  kind  he  was  to  it.  She 
told  the  wife  of  the  jailer,  and  the  story  be- 
gan to  be  told  from  one  to  another  and  at 
last  it  came  to  the  ears  of  the  emperor's 
wife,  who  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
women  in  all  the  country.  Her  name  was 
Josephine.  When  she  heard  the  story,  she 
said  that  surely  the  man  who  could  so  love  a 
little  flower  could  not  be  a  bad  man,  and  she 
persuaded  Napoleon,  the  emperor,  to  allow 
him  to  have  his  liberty.  Do  you  think  he 
went  home  happy  ?  Do  you  think  he  went 
home  alone,  or  do  you  think  he  took  the  little 
flower  home  with  him  ?  Yes,  he  carried  the 
flower  home  with  him  and  planted  it  in  his 
own  garden,  and  cared  for  it  very  tenderly. 
It  was  his  little  teacher,  for  it  had  taught 
him  to  love  God  and  to  trust  Him.  I  don't 
wonder  that  the  little  flower  was  able  to  teach 
the  man  about  God.    Jesus  said : 

"  If  God  then  so  clothe  the  grass  of  the  field, 
which  to-day  is  and  to-morrow  is  cast  into  the 
oven :  shall  He  not  much  more  clothe  you, 
oh,  ye  of  little  faith?'* 


/ 


XLVI 

The  President  and  His  Mother 

I  WONDER  what  you  would  be  thinking 
about  if  to-morrow  you  were  to  be  made 
President  of  the  United  States.  I  am  going 
to  tell  you  a  story  of  one  of  our  great  presi- 
dents and  what  he  thought  about  just  before 
he  was  inaugurated. 

He  lived  near  Cleveland,  and  a  few  days 
before  the  great  ceremony,  he  wrote  to 
his  old  mother  and  said,  **  I  want  you  to  go 
to  Washington  with  me."  She  was  very 
much  surprised,  and  after  thinking  it  all  over 
wrote  to  her  son,  of  whom  she  was  very 
proud,  and  said  :  "  I  cannot  go  to  Washing- 
ton- I  would  be  quite  out  of  place  there 
among  the  great  people  whom  you  will  meet, 
ril  stay  at  home  and  pray  for  you."  He 
quickly  sent  back  the  answer,  'Til  not  go 
without  you,"  and  so  together  they  travelled 
to  the  capital  city.  They  went  to  the  same 
hotel,  and  when  the  time  came  for  the  cere- 
mony, they  went  out  together,  his  mother 
leaning  on  his  arm.  They  entered  the  car- 
riage and  drove  to  the  Capitol,  where  a  great 
crowd   of   over  a  hundred  thousand  people 

121 


122  Children's  Story-Sermons 

was  waiting.  It  was  a  gala  occasion — the 
high  platform  and  all  the  celebrated  men 
from  all  over  the  country,  governors,  judges, 
and  ministers  and  the  great  sea  of  white  faces 
that  were  all  turned  to  the  one  central  place 
where  he  was.  The  people  noticed  that  in- 
stead of  taking  the  chair  that  was  provided 
for  him,  he  gave  it  to  his  mother.  Then  he 
delivered  his  inaugural  address,  and  after  he 
had  taken  the  oath  to  be  true  to  his  high  of- 
fice and  before  he  sat  down  he  turned  and 
put  his  arms  around  his  mother  and  kissed 
her. 

I  wonder  if  you  know  who  he  was  ?  He 
was  one  of  our  martyred  presidents.  His 
name  was  James  A.  Garfield.  I  think  that 
was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  things  he  ever 
did,  and  I  think  all  that  great  crowd  of  wait- 
ing people,  after  the  din  was  over  and  they 
had  gone  to  their  own  homes,  thought  so 
too.  You  know  our  mothers  do  for  us  far 
more  than  we  can  ever  repay,  and  they  are 
more  interested  in  our  success  than  perhaps 
we  are  ourselves.  I  hope  none  of  you  will 
ever  get  too  big,  or  too  old,  or  go  too  far 
away  to  forget  your  mother  or  to  make  her 
happy  in  your  own  happiness,  I  think  it 
would  be  worth  while  to  live  in  order  to  do 
just  that. 


XLVII 

The  Story  of  a  Bell 

What  do  you  think  of  Grosslaswitz  as  a 
name  for  a  town  ?  Well,  that  is  the  name  of 
a  little  town  far  away  in  the  north  of  Germany 
which  is  interesting  because  of  a  bell  that 
hangs  in  the  little  church  tower  there.  On 
that  bell  there  is  engraved  a  six-eared  stock 
of  corn  and  the  date,  October  15,  1729. 

I  want  to  tell  you  the  story  of  that  bell,  for 
it  is  very  interesting  and  very  helpful.  The 
old  bell  of  the  church  could  not  be  heard  in 
the  village,  and  you  know  those  were  the 
days  when  people  were  called  to  church  by 
the  bell,  rather  than  by  the  clock.  So  they 
decided  that  they  must  have  a  new  bell,  but 
they  were  all  very  poor  and  they  didn't  know 
how  they  could  give  enough  money  to  buy  a 
bell.  Everybody  ofTered  to  give  a  little,  but 
when  they  had  put  it  all  together  it  was  not 
nearly  enough  to  buy  the  new  bell.  One 
Sunday  when  he  was  going  to  church,  the 
schoolmaster  saw  growing  out  of  the  wall 
of  the  churchyard  a  good,  strong  stock 
123 


124  Children's  Story-Sermons 

of  corn.  You  know  sometimes  old  walls 
are  decayed  and  have  lots  of  earth  about 
them,  and  perhaps  this  seed  of  corn  had  been 
dropped  there  by  one  of  the  birds.  I  know 
of  a  little  tree  that  is  growing  on  the  top  of 
a  chimney  in  my  mother's  town  in  Scotland, 
and  it  has  been  there  for  fifty  years.  He  was 
interested  in  the  lonely  corn-stalk,  and  began 
to  think  how  it  came  there  and  what  it  would 
do.  So  every  Sunday  he  watched  it  and 
watched  it,  and  saw  that  it  was  growing  beau- 
tifully and  at  last  it  had  grown  six  well-formed 
ears  of  corn  on  the  stalk.  So  he  gathered 
them  and  put  them  away,  and  next  year  he 
sowed  the  seed.  Then  he  gathered  it  again, 
and  next  year  he  sowed  the  seed.  The  next 
year  he  did  the  same,  and  the  following  year 
he  had  not  enough  room  in  his  garden  for  all 
the  corn,  so  he  divided  it  among  his  friends, 
who  went  on  sowing  the  corn  until  after 
eight  years  they  had  a  crop  so  big  that  when 
it  was  sold  they  had  enough  money  to  buy 
the  bell.  And  so  the  bell  was  bought,  and 
the  story  of  how  it  was  secured  was  written 
on  the  bell,  in  the  way  I  have  told  you,  and 
also  the  date  of  the  bell's  birthday,  October 

15,  1729- 

You  can  never  guess  how  much  can  be 
done  through  very  little  things.     If  you  don't 


The  Story  of  a  Bell  125 

know  the  verses  about  little  things,  I  will  tell 
them  to  you,  and  that  will  be  the  sermon : 

**  Little  drops  of  water, 
Little  grains  of  sand. 
Make  the  miglUy  ocean, 
And  the  pleasant  land. 

*<  Thus  the  little  moments. 
Humble  though  they  be, 
Make  the  mighty  ages 
Of  eternity. 

"  Thus  our  little  errors 
Lead  the  soul  away. 
From  the  path  of  virtue 
Off  in  sin  to  stray. 

*<  Little  deeds  of  kindness, 
Little  words  of  love, 
Make  our  earth  an  Eden, 
Like  the  heaven  above." 


A  Palace  of  Beautiful  Deeds 

I  WANT  to  tell  you  a  story  that  has  a 
beautiful  lesson.  It  is  not  a  really  real  story, 
but  is  something  like  a  fairy  story,  though 
you  know  fairy  stories,  as  well  as  true  stories, 
can  teach  many  wonderful  and  helpful  lessons. 

There  lived  in  India  long,  long  ago  a  great 
and  very  powerful  king.  He  had  lots  and 
lots  of  money,  and  planned  to  build  some- 
where in  the  mountains  a  beautiful  palace — 
more  beautiful  than  any  palace  that  was  ever 
built,  so  that  when  he  died  the  people  would 
remember  him  and  know  that  he  must  have 
been  a  very  great  man.  So  he  sent  his 
builder,  whose  name  was  Jakoob,  and  gave 
him  all  the  money  that  would  be  needed  to 
build  this  wonderful  palace  in  the  hills.  Now, 
Jakoob  was  a  very  good  and  kind-hearted 
man,  and  when  he  came  to  the  far-away 
place  where  he  was  to  build  the  king's  palace, 
he  found  the  people  of  all  that  country  with- 
out food,  and  many  of  them  had  died  and 
many  more  were  dying.  So  what  do  you 
think  he  did  ?  Well,  being  a  good  man  and 
126 


A  Palace  of  Beautiful  Deeds        127 

wanting  to  help  these  poor  people,  he  spent 
all  his  own  money  and  all  the  money  the 
king  had  given  him  to  build  the  great  marble 
castle  in  feeding  the  hungry  and  in  caring 
for  the  sick.  By  and  by,  the  king  came  to 
see  how  Jakoob  was  getting  on  with  his  work, 
and  found  that  not  one  stone  had  been  laid 
for  the  building.  He  could  not  understand 
it,  and  when  he  found  the  builder  he  asked 
him  the  reason  for  his  strange  conduct 
Jakoob  told  him  the  story  of  the  poor  and 
the  sick  and  the  hungry,  and  how  he  had  fed 
them  and  cared  for  them  until  all  his  money 
was  spent.  The  king  was  very,  very  angry, 
and  said  to  him,  **  To-morrow  thou  shalt 
die,"  and  he  struck  him  with  his  sword  and 
cast  him  into  a  dark  prison.  As  he  lay  on 
his  bed  that  night,  the  king  dreamed  a  dream. 
You  know  God  sometimes  speaks  to  people 
in  dreams,  and  that  very  night  the  king 
dreamed  that  he  went  to  heaven,  and  they 
showed  him  there  the  most  beautiful  palace 
— oh,  the  most  beautiful  palace  he  had  ever 
seen.  It  was  far  more  beautiful  than  the 
palace  that  he  had  planned  to  build  in  the 
mountains.  He  asked  the  angels  whose 
this  palace  was,  and  how  it  came  to  be 
there,  and  how  it  came  to  be  so  beautiful. 
So  the  angels  said,    "This  is  the  beautiful 


128  Children's  Story-Sermons 

palace  of  beautiful  deeds  which  was  built  for 
you  by  Jakoob,  the  wise  builder.  After  all 
the  buildings  of  earth  have  been  destroyed, 
this  one  shall  still  be  beautiful."  Then  the 
king  understood  that  his  servant  had  done 
far  better  with  his  money  than  he  himself  had 
planned. 

You  know  Jesus  Himself  told  us  to  lay 
up  treasures  in  heaven,  and  this  was  what 
the  angels  meant  when  they  showed  the 
king  how  the  good  deeds  done  by  his  servant 
in  healing  the  sick  and  in  feeding  the  hungry 
and  in  caring  for  the  poor,  had  prepared  for 
him  a  far  more  beautiful  palace  than  could 
have  been  made  of  silver  or  gold. 


XLIX 
« I  Gave  Gold  For  Iron  " 

This  is  a  German  story.  It  is  a  story 
about  Frederick  William  III,  the  King  of 
Prussia.  It  seems  as  if  all  the  emperors  of 
Germany  were  called  either  William  or 
Frederick,  or  both  names  together. 

Frederick  William  III  was  trying  to  make 
a  great  nation  out  of  his  country,  and  was 
carrying  on  great  wars  but  hadn't  enough 
money  to  do  what  he  wanted  to  do.  So  he 
sat  down  to  think  how  he  could  get  money 
enough  to  carry  out  his  plans.  He  could  not 
stop,  for  if  he  did  the  enemy  would  soon  come 
into  his  country,  and  that  would  mean  greater 
distress  than  ever.  What  do  you  think  he 
did  ?  Well,  he  asked  all  the  women  in  his 
country  to  help  him.  You  say,  **  Well,  what 
could  the  women  do?  They  couldn't  ride 
horses,  and  fire  pistols  and  load  cannon  and 
go  out  to  war."  No,  perhaps  they  couldn't 
do  any  of  those  things,  but  I'll  tell  you 
what  they  did.  They  brought  their  jewelry 
and  their  ornaments,  their  gold  and  their 
silver,  and  the  king  had  all  that  they  br  ught 
129 


130  Children's  Story-Sermons 

melted  and  made  into  money.  The  king 
gave  in  return  to  each  of  the  women  who 
brought  her  jewelry  to  him  a  little  ornament 
of  brass  or  iron  just  like  the  gold  or  silver 
one  that  had  been  given  to  him.  These 
brass  and  iron  ornaments  had  written  upon 
them  the  words:   "I  Gave  Gold  For  Iron, 

1813." 

Don't  you  think  that  was  a  nice  thing  for 
women  to  do  for  their  king?  After  a  time 
the  war  came  to  an  end  and  the  women  got 
other  pieces  of  jewelry  and  ornaments,  but 
as  the  years  went  by,  these  little  iron  orna- 
ments, which  the  king  had  given  them,  were 
more  and  more  prized,  and  it  became  very 
fashionable  for  those  who  had  them  to  wear 
them.  It  was  like  wearing  a  medal  which 
had  been  won  for  some  great  deed  of  valour, 
and  in  time  it  came  to  pass  that  there  grew 
up  in  Germany  what  is  called  "  The  Order  of 
the  Iron  Cross,"  the  members  of  which  wear 
no  ornament  except  a  cross  of  iron  and  give 
all  the  money  they  can  spare  to  the  help  of 
others  who  are  in  great  need. 

I  think  that  is  a  very  beautiful  story,  but  I 
know  a  still  more  wonderful  story  than  that. 
It's  about  Jesus,  our  King.  We  did  not  give 
Him  the  gold  and  the  silver,  but  we  gave 
Him  the  brass  and  the  iron,  and  He  gave  us 


"  I  Gave  Gold  For  Iron  "  131 

gold  in  return.  We  belong  to  "  The  Order  of 
the  Golden  Cross,"  and  we  wear  the  orna- 
ment of  the  new  life,  which  says,  "I  Gave 
Iron  For  Gold."  To  every  boy  and  girl  who 
gives  up  a  poor,  little,  sinful  life  to  the  Lord 
Jesus,  He  gives  back  the  great  Golden  Glory 
of  His  own  wonderful  Love,  and  that  is  the 
story  that  we  love  to  tell : 

"  I  love  to  tell  the  story, 
Of  unseen  things  above, 
Of  Jesus  and  His  Glory, 
Of  Jesus  and  His  Love." 


A  Blacksmith's  Boy 

It  happened  in  the  time  of  the  Revolution- 
ary War  a  long,  long  time  ago.  If  it  hadn't 
gotten  into  the  papers  and  then  into  books, 
no  one  would  ever  have  remembered  it.  It 
happened  during  the  war  that  we  celebrate 
on  the  Fourth  of  July — the  War  of  Independ- 
ence. 

This  boy  about  whom  I  want  to  tell  you 
was  a  blacksmith's  boy,  a  poor,  lame  boy  who 
was  very  unhappy  and  very  sad  because  he 
could  not  go  off  to  the  war.  His  companions 
had  gone  and  he  alone  was  left.  He  stood  at 
the  door  of  the  blacksmith  shop,  and  wondered 
what  he  was  good  for,  with  his  lame  foot  and 
his  poor  crippled  body.  As  he  was  standing 
there  some  soldiers  rode  up  to  the  shop  in  a 
great  hurry,  and  wanted  to  know  if  there 
was  any  one  around  who  could  put  a  shoe  on 
a  horse's  foot.  Luke,  for  that  was  the  boy's 
name,  quickly  said :  "  I  think  I  can."  He 
had  often  helped  his  father  shoe  horses,  and 
in  a  little  while  he  had  the  shoe  properly 
fixed  on  the  horse* s  foot.  When  it  was  all 
132 


A  Blacksmith's  Boy  133 

done  and  the  men  were  ready  to  ride  away,  one 
of  the  men  who  was  the  leader  said  :  "  Boy, 
no  ten  men  who  have  gone  out  to  the  war 
could  have  served  their  country  as  well  as 
you  have  done  to-day."  If  you  take  down 
your  history  you  can  read  about  Colonel 
Warner,  who  rode  up  just  in  time  to  save  the 
Battle  of  Bennington,  and  then  you  can  re- 
member that  it  was  his  horse  that  the  lame 
boy,  Luke  Varnum,  shod  that  day  when  he 
WcLS  so  unhappy  because  he  too  could  not  go 
to  the  war.  If  Colonel  Warner's  horse  had 
not  been  shod  that  morning,  a  battle  might 
have  been  lost. 

You  know  there's  a  little  jingle  that  we  all 
say  sometimes : 

For  want  of  the  nail,  the  shoe  was  lost, 
For  want  of  the  shoe,  the  horse  was  lost, 
For  want  of  the  horse,  the  rider  was  lost, 
For  want  of  the  rider,  the  battle  was  lost, 
For  want  of  the  battle,  the  kingdom  was  lost, 
And  all  for  the  want  of  a  horse's  shoe  nail. 

Let  us  do  the  very  little  things  that  we  can 
do,  for  without  the  little  things  the  great 
things  cannot  be  done.  Perhaps  there  is 
something  that  God  Himself  will  not  be  able 
to  do  unless  some  little  boy  does  his  part, 
and  does  it  well. 


u 

Keeping  the  Sabbath 

I  WONDER  how  many  boys  and  girls  think 
Sunday  is  the  best  day  of  the  week  ?  I  won- 
der if  there  are  any  boys  and  girls  who  don't 
like  when  Sunday  comes  because  they  can- 
not do  some  of  the  things  they  do  on  other 
days?  Sunday  ought  to  be  the  happiest, 
sweetest  day  of  all  the  week,  and  yet  I 
think  it  ought  not  to  be  like  other  days 
We  ought  not  to  read  the  same  things  we 
read  on  other  days,  or  do  the  same  things  we 
do  on  other  days,  or  sing  the  same  songs  we 
sing  on  other  days,  or  play  the  same  games 
we  play  on  other  days.  I  think  it  is  good 
for  us  to  make  it  a  special  day.  Perhaps  if 
you  ask  your  fathers  and  mothers,  they  will 
tell  you  that  in  their  day  Sunday  was  a  very 
dull  day,  and  if  you  could  ask  your  grand- 
fathers and  grandmothers,  and  great-grand- 
fathers and  great-grandmothers,  and  great- 
great-grandfathers  and  great- great-grand- 
mothers and  great-great-great-grandfathers 
and  great-great-great-grandmothers,  perhaps 
they  would  tell  you  that  Sunday  was  very,  very 
dull  for  them  when  they  were  boys  and  girls. 
134 


Keeping  the  Sabbath  135 

The  other  day  I  came  across  some  of  the 
old  laws  about  keeping  the  Sabbath  and 
some  other  things,  and  perhaps  you  will  feel 
when  you  read  them  that  Sunday  now  is  not 
the  same  as  it  used  to  be  and  that  boys  and 
girls  have  an  easier  time  at  Sunday-school 
and  day-school  than  our  great-great-great- 
great-grandfathers  and  grandmothers  had. 
Here  are  some  of  those  old  laws  : 

"If  a  boy  shall  sing  or  whistle  on  the 
Lord's  Day,  it  is  a  fine  of  ten  cents. 

"  If  a  boy  shall  throw  a  stone  and  break  a 
window,  it  is  a  fine  of  nine  cents. 

"  If  a  boy  shall  chase  a  girl,  it  is  a  fine  of 
six  cents. 

"  If  a  boy  shall  go  to  sleep  in  church,  it  is 
a  fine  of  three  cents,  and  the  warden  may 
cane  him. 

**  If  a  boy  shall  throw  stones  at  a  neigh- 
bour's dog,  it  is  a  fine  of  five  cents,  and  his 
father  shall  whip  him. 

"If  a  boy  steal  apples  or  other  fruit,  his 
parents  must  pay  twice  the  value  thereof, 
and  he  may  be  sent  to  jail  for  two  days." 

Whenever  you  think  you  are  not  treated 
right  and  have  a  hard  time,  think  about  the 
poor  little  boys  and  girls  of  those  far-away 
days,  in  New  England. 


LII  / 

/ 

She  Saw  the  King     ^ 

Did  any  of  you  ever  see  a  real  king? 
Not  that  kings  are  different  from  other  peo- 
ple, but  because  they  are  kings  we  like  to 
see  them  and  are  interested  in  them.  Once 
I  saw  a  real  king — ^just  once.  I  stood  one 
day  on  a  street  corner  in  London,  and  saw 
King  Edward  VII  pass  along  the  street  in 
his  motor  car.  Many  people  didn't  know 
who  he  was,  and  in  a  little  while  he  was 
gone.  Everybody  wants  to  see  a  king,  and 
especially  his  own  people  who  honour  him 
and  love  him. 

I  want  to  tell  you  how  a  poor  woman  once 
saw  her  king.  Her  king  is  the  King  of  Italy. 
His  name  is  Victor  Emmanuel  III.  When 
the  great  earthquake  happened  in  Southern 
Italy,  he  went  to  help  the  wounded  and  to 
care  for  the  hungry  and  because  of  his  kind- 
ness all  the  people  love  him  and  delight  in 
him.  When  he  came  to  his  summer  home 
at  Racconigi,  the  people  left  their  work  and 
their  houses  and  farms  and  vineyards  to  see 
him.  At  one  of  the  farms  everybody  had 
136 


She  Saw  the  King  137 

gone  but  one  woman,  who  stayed  at  home  to 
take  care  of  the  house  and  to  milk  the  cows. 
If  any  of  you  have  Uved  on  a  farm,  you 
will  know  what  that  means.  While  she  was 
milking,  a  man  came  to  her  from  over  the 
fields  and  asked  her  for  a  drink  of  milk.  He 
had  been  walking  and  was  tired  and  very 
thirsty.  The  woman  knew  that  very  few 
people  like  fresh,  new,  warm  milk,  and  so  she 
said,  *'  Wait  a  moment  until  I  go  into  the 
house  and  get  for  you  some  milk  that  is  cool 
and  sweet."  She  returned  with  her  gift  of 
milk  and  cake  for  the  stranger.  "  How  is 
it,"  he  asked,  "  that  you  are  here  all  alone  ?  " 
She  was  afraid  just  for  a  minute,  but  his 
smile  satisfied  her  and  she  told  him  that  her 
husband  and  children  and  the  workers  had 
gone  to  see  the  king.  She  did  not  under- 
stand why  he  laughed,  but  he  laughed  such 
a  merry  laugh  that  she  knew  he  was  pleased 
about  something.  "  Gone  to  see  the  king," 
he  said.  *' Well,  not  one  of  them  will  see  him 
to-day."  **  And  why  not?"  said  the  woman. 
"  Because,"  said  the  stranger,  "  he  is  not 
there,  for  he  is  here."  The  woman  thought 
he  was  joking,  but  when  he  put  a  gold  coin 
into  her  hand  she  knew  he  was  no  beggar, 
and  when  he  removed  his  hat  to  say  "  Thank 
you  "  she  recognized  his  face  and  knew  that 


138  Children's  Story-Sermons 

he  was  her  king.  Before  she  could  say  any- 
thing he  was  gone,  but  she  had  seen  the 
king  and  was  satisfied. 

We,  too,  have  a  King.  His  name  is  Jesus. 
There  is  not  one  of  us  but  would  go  hun- 
dreds of  miles  to  look  into  His  face,  but  I  am 
wondering  if  we  would  know  Him  should  we 
meet  Him.  The  people  that  day  in  Italy 
thought  their  king  was  to  be  seen  in  the 
palace  among  the  nobles  and  the  great  men 
of  the  nation,  but  he  was  out  in  the  field 
alone  on*  the  farm,  asking  for  a  drink  of  milk. 
We,  too,  think  that  our  King  is  far  away  in 
heaven,  and  perhaps  ,some  of  us  think  He  is 
on  a  throne  in  the  city  of  gold,  but  He  is  not 
there — He  is  here — among  the  poor  and  the 
rich  and  the  sick  and  the  strong,  and  the  lit- 
tle children,  and  the  men  and  the  women, 
who  are  hard  at  work  in  the  battle  of  life, 
and  when  we  do  anything  for  them,  we  do  it 
for  Him.  Be  sure  you  don't  miss  Him  when 
He  comes.  When  He  came  to  Bethlehem  on 
that  first  Christmas  morning,  there  was  no 
room  for  Him.  No  one  knew  Him,  and  no 
one  understood. 


un  y 

What  is  Love  ? 

Here  is  a  real  Sunday-school  story.  The 
teacher  was  trying  to  tell  the  children  about 
Jesus  and  of  His  love  for  them  and  their  love 
for  Him,  and  like  a  good,  sensible  teacher — 
just  like  one  of  our  own  Fullerton  Avenue 
Sunday-school  teachers — she  was  anxious  to 
go  behind  the  empty  words  and  get  at  their 
real  meaning.  So  she  asked  some  simple  but 
hard  questions  :  **  What  does  it  mean  for  us  to 
love  Jesus  ?  How  can  we  love  Him  when  we 
cannot  see  Him  ?  How  do  we  love  anybody  ? 
What  is  love?"  Now,  you  know  those  are 
hard  questions.  Some  of  our  young  men 
and  young  women,  and  some  of  our  old 
bachelors,  and  even  some  of  our  married 
men  and  women  could  not  give  a  very  satis- 
factory answer  to  the  question  as  to  what 
love  is.  They  might  go  to  the  dictionary  and 
find  that  it  was  some  **  affection  of  the  heart," 
but,  goodness  me,  that  is  not  love.  Again, 
the  teacher  asked,  **  What  do  we  do  when  we 
love  somebody  real  well  ?  "  They  were  very 
little  children,  and  they  were  all  quite  puzzled 
and  were  unable  to  answer  even  that  simple 
139 


140  Children's  Story-Sermons 

question,  until  one  little  lady  about  six  years 
old,  without  saying  anything,  rose  from  her 
seat  and  put  her  arms  around  her  teacher's 
neck,  and  kissing  her,  said  :  "That's  what  I 
call  love."  Well,  the  teacher  thought  so  too, 
but  she  was  a  very  wise  teacher,  and  said : 
"  Is  there  any  other  way  to  love  people  ? " 
"  Oh,  yes,'*  said  the  little  girl,  who  had  now 
gained  confidence  and  had  forgotten  about 
herself.  Then  she  began  to  put  the  chairs  in 
order  and  to  gather  up  the  books  and  the 
papers  and  to  put  them  neatly  in  their  places. 
"  We  love  people,"  she  said,  "  by  helping 
them."  "  Yes,"  said  the  teacher,  "  and  which 
way  do  you  think  is  the  best  way?"  The 
teacher,  who  was  very  wise,  said  that  both 
ways  were  good  and  that  we  could  love 
Jesus  in  those  two  ways.  We  could  tell  Him 
that  we  love  Him,  and  we  do  that  when 
we  pray,  and  when  we  sing,  "  My  Jesus,  I 
Love  Thee,"  "I  Love  to  Tell  the  Story," 
"There's  a  Friend  for  Litde  Children,"  or 
any  of  our  beautiful  hymns  that  speak  of  the 
love  of  Jesus  for  us  and  of  our  love  for  Him. 
Then,  we  can  do  more  than  tell  Him  of  our 
love  :  we  can  show  our  love  for  Him  by  do- 
ing the  things  He  wishes  us  to  do.  For  if 
we  love  Him,  we  will  keep  His  command- 
ments. 


LIV 

Only  One  Door 

How  many  of  you  ever  heard  of  Isaac 
Newton — Sir  Isaac  Newton  ?  He  lived  about 
two  hundred  years  ago,  and  was  a  very, 
very  learned  man.  He  told  the  world  how 
the  stars  and  the  sun  and  the  moon  and  the 
earth  and  the  planets  hang  together,  and  circle 
around  through  the  heavens.  He  found  out 
his  great  secret,  we  are  told,  when  he  was 
sitting  under  an  apple  tree  one  day  and  saw 
an  apple  fall  from  the  tree  to  the  ground.  He 
thought  about  it  and  thought  about  it  and 
thought  about  it,  and  wondered  and  won- 
dered and  wondered,  until  at  last  he  thought 
out  some  great  things  about  God  and  His 
world. 

But,  although  he  was  very  wise  and  very 
great,  he  was  sometimes  very,  very  foolish. 
The  wisest  men  are  often  the  most  foolish. 
They  say  that  he  had  two  cats,  or  rather  one 
mother  cat  and  a  dear  little  kitten.  He  was 
very  fond  of  them,  and  they  used  to  come  to 
the  door  of  his  study  and  meow-meow- 
meow,  and  scratch  and  call  until  he  would 
141 


142  Children's  Story-Sermons 

rise  and  open  the  door  and  let  them  in.  He 
grew  tired  of  always  being  disturbed,  and  so 
he  called  a  man  and  told  him  to  have  two 
holes  cut  in  the  door,  one  for  the  mother  cat 
and  a  smaller  one  for  the  dear  little  kitten. 
Do  you  see  how  foolish  he  was  ?  And  you 
don't  wonder,  do  you,  that  the  carpenter 
laughed  and  told  the  great  man  that  the  cat 
and  the  kitten  could  both  go  in  through  the 
same  hole  ?  Of  course,  where  the  cat  could 
go  the  kitten  could  follow,  and  so  the  one 
opening  was  made  and  the  cat  and  the  kitten 
and  the  great  man  were  all  happy. 

There  is  only  one  door  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven,  just  one.  Jesus  said,  **I  am  the 
Door."  Some  wise  people  are  foolish 
enough  to  think  there  is  more  than  one. 
They  don't  say  so,  perhaps,  but  they  act  as 
if  they  believed  that  there  was  one  door  for 
the  rich  and  another  for  the  poor,  one  for  the 
black  man  and  one  for  the  white  man,  one 
for  the  good  and  one  for  the  very  bad,  but 
there  is  just  one  door.  "By  Me,"  said 
Jesus,  **if  any  man  enter  in,  he  shall  be 
saved."  And  this  is  the  strange  thing  about 
it :  the  big  door  was  needed  for  the  cat  and 
the  kitten,  but  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
only  the  small  one  is  needed.  Listen  to  this  : 
**  Except  ye  be  converted  and  become  as  little 


Only  One  Door  143 

children,  ye  cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven."  A  big  man  can  only  go  in  by 
getting  down  on  his  knees.  A  litde  child  can 
enter  in  just  as  he  is.  It  is  so  much  easier  to 
be  a  Christian  when  one  is  young. 

**  Early  let  us  seek  Thy  favour, 

Early  let  us  do  Thy  will ; 
Blessed  Lord  and  only  Saviour, 

With  Thy  love  our  bosoms  fill ; 
Blessed  Jesus,  Thou  hast  loved  us, 

Love  us  still." 


LV 

God's  Love  for  Us 

You  never  know  what  little  children  are 
going  to  say.  The  other  day  I  asked  my 
own  little  girl,  half-teasingly,  whom  she  loved 
best,  expecting,  of  course,  that  she  would 
flatter  me  with  her  choice,  but  she  surprised 
me  very  delightfully  by  saying,  "  I  love  Jesus 
best." 

A  little  girl  of  whom  I  was  reading,  and 
who  also  was  being  teased  about  her  prefer- 
ence, was  asked  by  her  father  how  much  she 
loved  him.  She  put  her  arms  around  his  neck, 
and  said :  **  I  love  you  up  to  the  sky  and 
along  to  the  end  of  the  world,  and  then  down 
again."  I  have  not  forgotten  her  words 
about  her  great  love,  and  have  often  thought 
about  them.  Her  way  of  telling  her  love 
sounds  like  the  story  of  God's  great  love  for 
us,  only  it  is  just  a  little  different.  God's 
love  for  us  was  down  from  the  sky  and  along 
to  the  end  of  the  world,  and  then  back  again. 
Is  it  not  so  ?  Is  not  that  the  story  of  the  life 
and  love  of  Jesus,  who  left  His  wonderful 
Glory-world  and  came  into  our  world  of  sin 
144 


God's  Love  for  Us  14^ 

and  darkness,  and  loved  us  and  lived  for  us 
and  died  for  us  and  carried  us  back  in  His 
own  great  heart  to  God  and  heaven  ? 

•*  Oh  !     'Twas  love,  'twas  wondrous  love, 
The  love  of  God  to  me ; 
That  sent  my  Saviour  from  above 
To  die  on  Calvary." 


LVI 

Good  Money,  but  No  Good 

The  other  day  I  had  to  do  some  buying 
from  the  United  States  government.  I 
wonder  how  many  of  you  know  that  the 
United  States  keeps  a  store  and  sells  things? 
I  wanted  to  buy  a  book — not  a  very  big  book 
— just  a  little  booklet,  and  so  I  wrote  about 
it  and  they  sent  back  a  letter  that  had  no 
stamp  on  it.  What  do  you  think  of  that  ? 
A  letter  that  had  no  stamp  on  it,  and  the  letter 
told  me  how  much  money  to  send  and  how 
to  send  it,  and  what  kind  of  money. 

What  kind  of  money?  Why,  United 
States  money,  of  course.  I  was  to  send 
no  German  money,  and  no  English  money, 
and  no  French  money,  and  no  Chinese 
money,  and  no  checks,  but  just  good,  plain 
American  money.  They  also  told  me  that  I 
was  not  to  send  them  any  United  States 
stamps.  That  seemed  very  queer  to  me,  for 
stamps  are  just  as  good  as  money,  and  one 
would  think  that  a  United  States  store  would 
take  United  States  stamps.  Even  after  they 
had  said  all  that,  they  told  me  that  I  was  to 
146 


Good  Money,  but  No  Good        147 

send  them  no  **  smooth  "  money,  or,  as  they 
put  it,  no  money  that  had  been  handled  until 
it  was  "  slick,"  that  is,  until  the  figures  and 
the  face  were  worn  off. 

I  thought  that  was  very  strange.  Why 
would  the  United  States  not  take  its  very 
own  money  ?  Why  would  it  not  honour  its 
own  gold  ?  Is  not  that  strange  ?  It  expects 
other  people  to  use  its  old  dimes  and  nickels 
and  quarters,  but  it  won't  have  anything 
to  do  with  them  itself.  I  do  not  under- 
stand that.  I  should  think  it  would  be  just 
the  thing,  to  have  the  people  send  in  their 
old  money  so  that  it  might  be  melted  over 
and  made  into  bright  new  coin.  But  no, 
they  said  that  old  money  "positively  will 
not  be  accepted.''  Since  I  got  that  letter, 
I  have  been  thinking  a  good  deal  about  it. 
That  is  not  the  way  God  does  with  the  things 
He  makes.  When  they  are  old  and  broken 
and  spoiled,  God  makes  them  over  again. 
The  Bible  tells  us  that  He  made  us  in  His 
own  image.  The  United  States  puts  its 
stamp  upon  its  money,  and  God  puts  His 
stamp  upon  our  souls.  We  are  made  like 
Him — pure,  and  holy,  and  immortal.  Of 
course,  we  do  with  our  lives  just  as  we  do 
with  our  money.  We  wear  off  the  brightness 
and  we  destroy  the  image.     But  it  does  not 


148  Children's  Story-Sermons 

matter  how  shapeless,  or  how  defaced  our 
lives  may  be,  God  will  take  them  if  we  will 
give  them  to  Him,  and  He  will  make  them 
over  again,  pure  and  bright  and  beautiful. 
Jesus  came  to  make  the  souls  of  men  whole 
again.  That's  what  the  Gospel  means.  It's 
good  news.  That's  why  they  call  His  name 
Jesus,  because  He  came  to  save  His  people 
and  to  make  all  things  new  again.  Did  you 
ever  think  of  the  **  new  "  things  Jesus  prom- 
ises to  give  us  ?  Here  are  some  of  them  :  He 
will  put  a  new  song  in  our  mouth.  He  will 
give  us  a  new  name.  He  will  make  with  us 
a  new  covenant.  He  will  put  within  us  a  new 
spirit.  He  will  give  us  a  new  heart  and  a 
new  commandment.  He  will  open  for  our 
feet  a  new  and  a  living  way.  Indeed,  He 
will  make  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth, 
and  will  make  us  new  creatures. 


LVII 

The  Little  Missionary 

His  name  was  Jhwain.  He  was  the  son 
of  a  wicked  Chinaman.  His  father's  name 
was  Jhwain  Das.  They  lived  together  in 
China,  and  the  father  was  a  highwayman, 
and  a  thief,  and  a  robber,  and  a  very  bad 
man.  It  happened  that  little  Jhwain  went  to 
the  mission  station,  and  there  he  learned  to 
read.  His  father  wanted  him  to  read,  but 
cared  nothing  at  all  about  the  Gospel,  or 
about  missionaries.  Yes,  he  did  care — he 
cared  enough  to  steal  from  them  and  rob 
them,  and  one  night  out  in  the  darkness  away 
from  the  city  he  caught  the  missionary  teacher 
and  robbed  him  of  his  money  and  his  clothes 
and  the  books  he  was  carrying,  and  took 
them  all  home  and  hid  them  away.  The 
books  were  forgotten  for  a  long  while,  until 
one  day  the  little  boy  wanted  something 
more  to  read,  and  the  father  remembered  the 
stolen  books  and  went  and  brought  one  of 
them.  The  little  fellow  opened  it,  and  it 
happened  to  be  a  Bible.  Indeed,  all  the 
books  that  were  stolen  were  Bibles.  Don't 
149 


150  Children's  Story-Sermons 

you  think  those  were  strange  things  to  steal  ? 
People  do  steal  Bibles,  though.  I  preached 
in  a  church  once  where  the  pulpit  Bible  was 
stolen,  and  we  never  were  able  to  find  out 
who  was  the  thief.  I  hope  he  will  read  it, 
and  perhaps  learn  to  do  better.  So  it  hap- 
pened with  the  father  of  little  Jhwain.  The 
boy  opened  the  book,  and  the  first  place  he 
read  was  over  in  Numbers,  at  the  thirty-sec- 
ond chapter.  He  read  the  words  we  all 
know,  "  Be  sure  your  sin  will  find  you  out." 
When  the  father  heard  them,  he  was  afraid 
and  trembled  and  told  the  boy  not  to  read 
any  more.  When  he  was  alone,  the  robber 
opened  the  book  again  and  it  opened  at  the 
same  place.  You  know  how  books  have  a 
habit  of  always  opening  at  the  same  place. 
He  was  very  much  afraid,  and  closed 
the  book  and  put  it  away.  The  next  day  he 
opened  it  again,  but  made  sure  that  it  did 
not  open  at  the  same  place.  This  time  i^. 
opened  not  in  the  Old  Testament,  but  in  the 
New  Testament,  and  there  he  read  about 
Jesus,  who  came  to  save  from  sin.  He  read 
the  story  again  and  again,  and  at  last  went 
with  all  the  stolen  things  to  the  mission  and 
confessed  his  sin,  and  there  he  found  help  and 
forgiveness.  For  many  days  he  went  with 
his  little  boy  and  learned  about  the  Gospel 


The  Little  Missionary  151 

and  about  the  heavenly  Father,  and  at  last 
was  baptized  and  became  a  preacher  to  his 
own  people.  He  died  only  a  few  weeks  ago, 
and  the  wonderful  story  of  his  life  was  told 
in  the  missionary  papers.  He  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Methodist  Mission  at  Badaon,  and 
all  who  knew  him  learned  to  love  and  trust 
him. 

There  are  two  things  about  this  story  that 
make  up  the  sermon.  The  first  is  about  the 
wonderful  way  God  uses  a  little  child  to  lead 
fathers  into  the  kingdom  of  God.  The 
Bible  says  "  a  little  child  shall  lead  them," 
and  boys  and  girls  ought  to  remember  that 
they  are  in  their  own  way  the  best  ministers 
and  missionaries  that  God  has.  The  second 
thing  is  that  when  we  read  the  Bible,  you 
and  I  should  always  read  the  Old  Testament 
and  the  New  Testament  together.  The  Old 
Testament  tells  us  about  sin,  and  the  New 
Testament  tells  us  about  salvation.  The  Old 
Testament  says,  "  Be  sure  your  sin  will  find 
you  out "  :  the  New  Testament  tells  us  the 
same  thing,  but  tells  us  that  His  name  is 
called  Jesus  because  He  saves  His  people 
from  their  sins. 


LVIII 

The  Little  Peacemaker      V 

Her  name  was  Louise,  and  she  was  just 
as  pretty  and  just  as  sweet  as  the  sweet  and 
beautiful  queen  who  had  the  same  name. 
One  evening,  after  she  had  been  washed  and 
dressed  and  had  said  her  prayer  and  been 
tucked  into  bed  and  been  kissed  by  her 
mother,  just  as  all  sweet  and  beautiful  little 
girls  and  boys  are,  no  matter  what  their 
names,  she  said :  "  I  was  a  peacemaker  to- 
day, mamma."  '*A  what,  dear?"  said  her 
mother,  who  had  never  heard  her  use  that 
big  word  before.  "  A  peacemaker,"  said 
Louise.  **  You  know  what  that  means, 
mamma,  don't  you?  It  means  a  peace- 
maker, just  a  peacemaker,  you  know." 
"  But  how  were  you  a  peacemaker,  Louise  ? 
I  didn't  know  you  were  where  there  was  any 
quarrelling.  You  know  I  don't  like  you  to 
be  with  children  who  fight  and  quarrel  and 
are  naughty."  "  Oh  I  It  was  not  anything 
like  that,"  said  Louise.  "  It  was  just  that  I 
knew  something  and  didn't  tell  it."  Then, 
of  course,  her  mother  knew  that  her  little 
152 


The  Little  Peacemaker  153 

daughter  had  heard  some  mean,  naughty, 
ugly  story  about  one  of  her  little  friends  and 
had  kept  it  to  herself  and  told  no  one.  Her 
mother,  I  feel  sure,  kissed  her  a  second  time 
and  whispered  in  her  ear  those  words  of 
Jesus  about  the  peacemakers:  '*  Blessed  are 
the  peacemakers,  for  they  shall  be  called  the 
children  of  God."  In  this  same  beautiful 
way,  you  and  I,  like  little  Louise,  can  be 
peacemakers.  We  can  stop  bad  stories  by 
not  telling  them.  We  can  kill  bad  thoughts 
by  not  thinking  them.  We  can  bury  bad 
feelings  by  hiding  them  away  out  of  sight. 
We  can  be  silent  about  the  bad,  and  think 
and  speak  and  feel  only  about  the  good. 

**  Somebody  did  a  golden  deed  : 
Somebody  proved  a  friend  in  need  : 
Somebody  sang  a  beautiful  song  : 
Somebody  smiled  the  whole  day  long : 
Somebody  thought  '  'tis  sweet  to  live  ' : 
Somebody  said,  <  I'm  glad  to  give ' : 
Somebody  fought  a  brave,  good  fight : 
Somebody  loved  to  help  the  right ; 
Was  that  somebody  you  ?  " 


LIX 

y 

Bobbie  Higgins 

He  was  a  cripple  boy.  Bobbie  Higgins 
was  his  name.  He  lived  with  his  mother  in 
one  of  the  larger  towns  of  Ohio,  and  every- 
body knew  him.  Not  very  long  ago  Dr. 
Chapman  and  Mr.  Alexander  were  holding 
meetings  in  that  town,  and  Bobbie  became 
interested.  He  liked  the  bright  music  and 
the  bright  lights,  and  every  night  he  was 
there  on  the  front  seat.  He  went  to  church 
more  that  week  than  he  had  ever  gone  be- 
fore in  his  life,  for  he  just  knocked  about  the 
streets  and  inquired  into  everything  that  was 
going  on,  and  knew  everything  that  had 
happened,   or    that   was   going  to   happen. 

One  night  something  happened  that  he 
did  not  expect.  It  happened  so  strangely, 
and  so  quickly  and  so  silently  that  Bobbie 
Higgins  was  the  most  surprised  boy  in  the 
world  after  he  knew  about  it.  What  do  you 
think  happened?  Let  me  tell  you.  The 
dear  Lord  Jesus  came  into  his  heart,  and  so 
loved  him  and  so  won  him  that  little  crippled 
154 


Bobbie  Higgins  155 

Bobbie  Higgins  became  a  firm  friend  of  Jesus 
and  was  glad  to  call  himself  a  Christian. 

You  know  that  when  a  boy  loves  Jesus  and 
calls  himself  a  Christian  and  is  a  friend  of 
Jesus,  there  are  some  things  he  used  to  do 
which  he  does  not  want  to  do  again,  and 
Bobbie  Higgins  found  that  out.  Next  Sun- 
day there  was  to  be  a  baseball  game  in  the 
town,  and  of  course  Bobbie  had  planned  to 
go.  He  had  arranged  to  go  before  Jesus  and 
he  became  friends.  Sunday  came,  and  great 
crowds  went  to  the  ball  ground,  and  the 
street-cars  were  crowded  with  men  and 
women  coming  home  from  the  game.  They 
were  talking  and  laughing  and  noisy,  and 
had  forgotten  all  about  it  being  God's  holy 
day.  At  one  of  the  corners  Bobbie  Higgins 
got  on  the  car,  and  the  conductor,  who  knew 
him,  called  out  to  him,  "  Well,  Bobbie,  what 
was  the  score? "  Bobbie  answered  up  in  his 
usual  bright,  happy  manner,  "  Five  to  two, 
but  I  wasn't  there.  You  know  I'm  a  Chris- 
tian now."  The  men  did  not  talk  quite  so 
loud,  and  the  women  did  not  laugh  so  much 
after  that,  and  one  or  two  heard  the  con- 
ductor, when  he  took  Bobbie's  nickel,  say  to 
him :  "  Stick  to  it,  Bobbie,  and  you  will  be 
better  for  it."  What  a  sermon  Bobbie 
Higgins  preached  that  Sunday  afternoon  in 


1 56  Children's  Story-Sermons 

the  street-cars  in  that  Ohio  city  of  Dayton  I 
I  wish  I  could  preach  like  that.  I  wish  I  had 
a  hundred  boys  in  my  church  who  could 
preach  like  that.  It  puts  some  of  us  men  to 
shame  when  a  little  cripple  boy  is  not  ashamed 
to  tell  a  crowded  street-car  that  he  is  a  Chris- 
tian. We  take  off  our  hats  to  him,  and  give 
three  cheers  for  Bobbie  Higgins. 


LX 
The  Picture  That  Is  To  Be 

William  Merritt  Chase— that's  his 
name.  None  of  you  know  him  perhaps. 
He  is  not  a  boy  ;  he  is  a  man,  and  he  lives 
in  New  York  City.  He  is  a  great  painter, 
one  of  the  great  painters  of  the  world.  He 
has  painted  some  wonderful  pictures,  and 
every  one  is  interested  in  men  and  women, 
and  boys  and  girls  who  can  do  wonderful 
things. 

One  day  a  friend  was  in  his  studio,  and 
was  looking  around  at  the  many  beautiful 
paintings  that  were  there  and  his  curiosity 
got  the  better  of  him.  People  say  that  only 
little  boys  and  big  girls  are  filled  with  curios- 
ity, but  I  know  lots  of  little  women  and  big 
men  who  are  just  as  curious  as  Helen's 
Babies  ever  were.  They  were  the  children, 
you  know,  who  always  wanted  *'  to  see  the 
wheels  go  'round."  This  friend — a  grown-up 
man — was  curious,  and  asked  Mr.  Chase 
which  of  all  the  paintings  he  had  finished  was 
the  best.  The  great  painter  took  his  friend 
to  the  other  side  of  the  room  and  showed  him 
157 


158  Children's  Story-Sermons 

a  large  piece  of  white  canvas  stretched  in  a 
beautiful  frame,  and  said  :  "  That  is  my  best 
work."  What  do  you  think  he  meant? 
There  was  no  picture  there.  No  brush  had 
ever  touched  that  white  canvas,  but  his 
friend  understood,  and  I  am  sure  you  under- 
stand. The  great  artist  meant  that  the 
picture  which  was  to  be,  but  was  not  yet 
painted,  which  was  in  his  heart  and  mind  and 
was  seen  only  as  a  beautiful  image,  but  which 
one  day  would  be  put  upon  the  canvas, 
would  be  his  masterpiece.  Turning  to  his 
friend,  he  said,  *'  I  am  sorry  I  cannot  show 
you  that  picture.  I  am  always  trying,  but  it 
still  creeps  ahead  of  me.  I  have  painted 
it  there  in  my  mind  a  thousand  times,  and 
some  day  perhaps  I  will  be  able  to  paint  it  as 
I  see  it." 

All  of  us,  and  especially  the  boys  and  girls, 
ought  to  have  always  before  us  this  unpainted 
white  canvas  upon  which  we  expect  to  put 
our  very  best.  It  was  a  great,  good  man, 
Robert  Browning,  who  said  : 

**  Grow  old  along  with  me, 
The  best  is  yet  to  be  ; 
The  last  of  life  for  which  the  first  was  made." 

Life's  best  always  ought  to  be  in  the  future, 
for  God  and  heaven  lie  on  before  us.     The 


The  Picture  That  Is  To  Be         159 

white  canvas  and  the  new  page  always  call 
for  the  best  we  have.  Boys  and  girls  who 
are  now  painting  and  writing  on  the  white 
canvas  and  the  white  paper  of  their  first 
years,  ought  to  be  careful  that  they  put  there 
only  their  very  best.  It  was  another  great, 
good  man,  James  Russell  Lowell,  who  said : 


**  Life  is  a  sheet  of  paper  white, 
Whereon  each  one  of  us  may  write 
His  word  or  two,  and  then  comes  night ; 
Though  thou  have  time 
But  for  a  line — be  that  sublime. 
Not  failure,  but  low  aim  is  crime." 


LXI 
The  Prince  and  His  Garden 

This  is  a  fairy  story,  but  I  think  it  is  true. 
You  know  I  told  you  once  that  fairy  stories 
are  the  truest  kind  of  stories,  for  they  tell  us 
of  the  things  that  really  are  and  of  the  things 
that  ought  to  be.  This  story  is  about  a  beau- 
tiful prince  who  lived  in  a  most  wonderful 
palace,  near  which  was  the  largest  and  most 
beautiful  garden  that  was  ever  seen.  One 
day,  as  he  was  walking  through  the  garden, 
he  came  to  the  orange  trees,  and  looking  up 
into  their  blossoming  branches,  he  said  : 
"  Orange  trees,  what  are  you  doing  for  your 
prince  ?  '^  **  Oh,"  said  the  orange  trees,  **  we 
are  blooming  as  beautifully  as  we  can  for  our 
prince,  and  by  and  by  when  our  blossoms 
have  budded  and  our  fruit  is  ripe,  it  will  be 
carried  into  the  palace  for  the  prince's  table." 
"My  blessing  upon  the  orange  trees,"  said 
the  prince.  Coming  to  the  great,  spreading 
chestnut  trees  and  looking  up  into  their  wav- 
ing branches,  the  prince  said :  "  Chestnut 
trees,  what  are  you  doing  for  your  prince  ?  " 
"Oh,"  said  the  chestnut  trees,  "when  the 
1 60 


The  Prince  and  His  Garden        161 

days  are  warm  and  the  sun  is  hot,  we  spread 
out  our  branches  and  our  great  fan-Hke 
leaves,  and  under  them  your  cattle  and  sheep 
have  shade  and  shelter."  "  My  blessing  upon 
the  chestnut  trees,"  said  the  prince.  Walk- 
ing out  into  the  meadow,  the  prince  looked 
down  into  the  luscious  grass,  and  said: 
**  Meadow  grass,  what  are  you  doing  for  your 
prince?"  **Oh,"  said  the  meadow  grass, 
**  I  am  growing  greener  and  sweeter,  and 
some  day  your  men  will  come  with  their 
sharp  sickles  and  will  cut  me  down  close  to 
the  ground,  and  I  will  be  carried  away  into 
your  stables  for  the  beautiful  horses  that  draw 
the  royal  carriages."  "  My  blessing  upon 
the  meadow  grass,"  said  the  prince.  As  he 
turned  to  go,  he  saw  looking  up  through  the 
meadow  grass  a  tiny  little  white  daisy,  and 
stooping  to  look  into  its  pale,  white  face,  the 
prince  said  :  "  Little  daisy,  what  are  you  doing 
for  your  prince  ?  "  Then  the  little  meadow 
daisy  hung  its  head  low,  and  whispered : 
**  Nothing,  nothing,  nothing,  at  all.  I  can- 
not give  fruit  for  the  prince's  table,  or  shade 
for  the  prince's  cattle,  or  food  for  the  prince's 
horses.  I  am  only  a  little  meadow  flower, 
and  they  don't  want  me  in  the  grass,  or  in 
the  field.  All  I  can  do  is  to  be  the  best  litde 
daisy  possible,  and  that  is  all."     When  the 


l62  Children's  Story-Sermons 

prince  heard  these  beautiful  words,  he  knelt 
down  in  the  meadow  grass  and  kissed  the 
little  flower,  and  said :  "  My  best  blessing 
upon  the  little  daisy,  for  in  all  the  garden 
there  is  nothing  that  is  better  than  it." 

We,  too,  have  a  Prince  who  visits  His 
garden  and  goes  about  from  one  to  another, 
from  fathers  and  mothers,  and  brothers  and 
sisters,  and  neighbours  and  friends,  and  boys 
and  girls — big  boys  and  big  girls,  and  little 
boys  and  little  girls, — and  asks  each  one 
what  he  is  doing  for  his  Prince.  I  feel  sure  I 
know  which  He  Hkes  best.  I  think  He  does 
just  what  the  beautiful  prince  in  the  story 
did.  He  stoops  down  and  kisses  the  faces  of 
the  children  who  are  doing  nothing  but 
smiling  and  being  sweet  and  happy  and 
humble  all  day  long,  and  He  says :  "  In  all 
My  garden  there  is  none  sweeter  than  a  little 
child."    Jesus  loves  the  children  best  of  all. 

**  A  dreary  place  would  be  this  earth, 
Were  there  no  little  people  in  it ; 
The  song  of  life  would  lose  its  mirth, 
Were  there  no  children  to  begin  it." 


LXII 

A  Wise  Little  Girl     ^ 

I  WANT  you  to  listen  to  this  story  very  care- 
fully. It  is  hardly  a  story,  and  it  is  scarcely 
a  sermon.  I  hardly  know  what  to  call  it,  and 
for  want  of  a  name  I  will  not  call  it  anything, 
but  will  just  tell  it  to  you.  But  before  I  tell 
it,  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question.  How  many 
of  you  boys  and  girls  have  been  told  that  God 
loves  you  when  you  are  good  ?  Yes,  all  of 
you  have  been  told  that,  and  of  course  that  is 
true.  God  loves  us  when  we  are  kind  and 
good  and  true  ;  but  what  about  the  days  and 
the  hours  and  the  minutes  when  we  are  not 
good  and  kind  and  true  ?  Does  God  love  us 
then  ?  Now,  this  is  the  story :  A  little  girl 
about  six  years  old,  after  she  had  said  her 
own  little  prayer — the  same  prayer  that  she 
had  said  over  and  over  again  until  she  could 
say  it  after  her  eyes  had  closed  and  she  was 
nearly  off  into  the  land  of  dreams  and  de- 
lights— was  told  by  her  mother  one  night 
that  she  might  say  anything  she  wished  to 
God,  and  might  make  up  a  prayer  of  her 
own  if  she  wished.  So  the  next  night,  after 
163 


164  Children's  Story-Sermons 

she  had  said  her  prayer,  her  mother  was  sur- 
prised to  hear  her  say, — even  after  she  had 
said  the  Amen,  "  Dear  Jesus,  love  me  when 
Vm  naughty."  Don't  you  think  that  was  a 
strange  thing  for  her  to  say  ?  Some  of  you 
are  smiling  about  it,  and  yet  was  she  not  a 
wise  little  girl,  and  don't  you  think  her  new 
prayer  was  the  very  best  prayer  possible  ? 

Our  fathers  and  mothers  do  not  stop  lov- 
ing us  when  we  are  naughty,  and  God  loves 
us  better  than  any  one  in  all  the  world  could 
love  us.  I  think  if  I  were  to  repeat  it  to  you, 
you  would  know  the  meaning  of  the  wonder- 
ful verse  in  the  Bible  that  says,  **  While  we 
were  yet  sinners  Christ  died  for  us."  I  think 
you  understand  it,  and  it  tells  you  better  than 
I  could  ever  hope  to  tell  you  that  God  al- 
ways loves  us,  when  we  are  bad  and  when 
we  are  good.  Of  course.  He  does  not  love 
us  because  we  are  bad,  but  He  loves  us  just 
because  He  does  love  us,  and  when  we  love 
Him  we  will  try  to  live  so  that  we  will  be  well 
pleasing  in  His  sight.  There  is  music  in  the 
words,  and  I  know  you  will  understand  them, 
at  least  the  last  two  lines  : 

**  I  know  not  where  His  islands  lift 
Their  fronded  palms  in  air  ; 
I  only  know  I  cannot  drift 
Beyond  His  love  and  care.** 


LXIII   //^ 

Sweeter  Than  Honey 

Away  over  in  Egypt  when  men  dig  in 
the  ground,  they  often  discover  very  strange 
and  interesting  things.  Many,  many  years 
ago  there  were  great  cities  and  buildings  and 
palaces  in  Egypt,  which  are  there  no  longer. 
You  know  cities  and  palaces  and  temples  and 
towers  die  like  people  and  perish,  and  are 
buried  in  the  ground  and  forgotten,  and  now 
when  men  dig  down  deep  they  sometimes 
find  those  old  cities  and  temples  and  houses 
and  books  and  furniture.  Not  long  ago  some 
men  were  digging  in  one  of  these  old  buried 
cities,  and  in  a  tomb  away  down  in  the 
ground  they  found  a  sealed  jar — a  stone  jar. 
It  was  quite  heavy,  and  the  workmen  knew 
there  must  be  something  in  it,  and  there  was. 
What  do  you  suppose  was  in  it  ?  Water  ? 
No.  Milk?  No.  Oil?  No.  Vinegar? 
No.  Molasses?  No.  Honey?  Yes — pure, 
sweet,  beautiful  honey,  as  pure  and  as  sweet 
as  the  day  it  was  made  by  the  Egyptian  bees 
165 


i66  Children's  Story-Sermons 

four  thousand  years  ago.  Think  of  that — foul 
thousand  years  ago.  Is  that  not  wonderful  ? 
It  had  kept  pure  and  sweet  and  beautiful  in 
its  deep,  dark  home  for  four  thousand  long 
years ! 

There  are  other  things  that  keep  their 
sweetness  and  purity  and  freshness  just  like 
honey.  Listen  ;  God  says  in  the  Bible  that 
His  law  and  His  words  are  **  sweeter  than 
honey  and  the  honeycomb,"  and  we  know 
that  this  is  true.  Did  you  ever  hear  a  sweeter 
word  or  one  that  has  kept  its  sweetness 
longer  than  this,  "  The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd, 
I  shall  not  want "  ?  And,  then  too,  God  also 
tells  us  in  the  Bible  that  **  pleasant  words  are 
as  an  honeycomb,  sweet  to  the  soul."  We 
do  not  wonder  that  God's  words  are  sweet 
like  honey,  but  we  are  surprised  into  delight 
to  think  He  would  say  that  our  words  may 
be  so  sweet  and  pleasant,  so  helpful  and  lov- 
ing, that  they  too  like  honey  will  keep  for 
years  and  years.  Let  us  try  to  speak 
such  beautiful  words  that  long,  long  after- 
wards in  the  hearts  of  those  to  whom 
they  are  spoken  they  may  be  found  again. 
Perhaps  you  know  the  verses  about  the  arrow 
and  the  song.  They  were  written  by  Long- 
fellow. Every  boy  and  girl  ought  to  know 
them  and  remember  them.     Here  they  are  : 


Sweeter  Than  Honey  167 

"  I  shot  an  arrow  into  the  air, 

It  fell  to  earth  I  knew  not  where ; 
For  so  swiftly  it  flew,  the  sight 
Could  not  follow  it  in  its  flight. 

**  1  breathed  a  song  into  the  air. 

It  fell  to  earth  1  knew  not  where ; 
For  who  has  sight  so  keen  and  strong, 
That  it  can  follow  the  flight  of  song  ? 

**  Long,  long  afterward  in  an  oak, 
I  found  the  arrow  still  unbroke  ; 
And  the  song  from  beginning  to  end, 
I  found  again  in  the  heart  of  a  friend.*' 


LXIV  y 

Boys  Who  Are  Brave 

There  are  three  kinds  of  brave  boys — no, 
four,  but  the  fourth  kind  is  not  found  in  the 
story,  and  I  must  tell  it  last  for  it  belongs  to 
the  sermon. 

At  school  one  day  the  teacher  asked  the 
boys  of  the  class  to  tell  her  what  bravery 
was,  and  a  little  lad  whose  name  was  just 
plain  John  told  her  that  real  bravery  was  a 
pretty  hard  thing  to  find.  **  Some  boys,"  he 
said,  **  is  brave  because  they  always  plays 
with  little  boys,  and  some  boys  is  brave  be- 
cause their  legs  is  too  short  to  run  away,  but 
most  boys  is  brave  because  somebody  is  look- 
ing." Don't  you  think  he  was  a  pretty  smart 
boy  to  say  that,  even  although  his  English  is 
not  extra  good,  and  although  he  made  some 
bad  mistakes  in  grammar  ?  Let  us  see : 
First  of  all,  some  boys  are  brave  because 
they  always  play  with  little  boys.  That's 
true,  but  those  boys  are  not  brave.  They 
are  "  brags."  You  know  what  a  **  brag  "  is. 
You  know  what  animal  it  is  that  brays — it's 
a  donkey.  Well,  to  brag  is  just  to  bray. 
1 68 


Boys  Who  Arc  Brave  169 

In  the  second  place,  some  boys  are  brave 
because  their  legs  are  too  short  for  them  to 
run  away.  These  boys  are  really  not  brave 
boys  at  all,  for  if  they  could  they  would  run 
away.  They  are  just  cowards  with  short 
legs.  They  are  the  kind  of  soldiers  who  get 
shot  in  the  back,  and  God  has  no  armour  for 
people's  backs.  Boys  of  the  third  class  are 
brave  because  somebody  is  looking  and 
watching  them.  Most  of  us,  both  men  and 
boys,  belong  in  this  class, — boys  and  men 
who  play  ball  and  watch  the  grand  stand, 
children  and  grown-ups  who  work  only  when 
some  one  is  watching.  David  fights  Goliath 
when  the  armies  on  both  sides  are  looking  at 
him.  Anybody  could  fight  a  giant  when  a 
great  crowd  is  watching,  and  yet  David  was 
really  brave,  for  when  no  one  was  watching, 
when  he  was  alone  in  the  wilderness  without 
a  sword  or  a  spear  and  with  none  to  help  or 
hear  his  call,  he  fought  with  a  lion  and  a  bear 
and  slew  them.  Perhaps,  after  all,  when  we 
think  of  it,  he  was  not  alone,  for  God  was 
looking  and  God  was  helping  him,  and  it 
may  be  that  John  was  right,  and  that  there 
are  only  three  kinds  of  bravery  and  not  four. 
I  was  going  to  say,  when  I  started  to  tell  the 
story,  that  the  fourth  kind  of  bravery  is  when 
a  boy  is  brave  and  no  one  is  near  to  watch 


lyo  Children's  Story-Sermons 

him  or  see  him,  but,  after  all,  the  best  bravery 
comes  to  us  because  some  one  is  looking. 
Our  friends  are  looking,  our  fathers  and 
mothers  are  looking,  our  teachers  and  com- 
panions are  looking,  and  then  of  course  we 
are  always  sure  that  Jesus  is  looking,  and  ex- 
pects us  to  do  our  best,  ''  to  fight  the  good 
fight "  and  to  be  good  soldiers  of  our  King. 


LXV 

A  Little  Boy  and  an  Old  Lady 

I  HEARD  a  Story  the  other  day  about  a 
little  boy  who  always  went  to  church  and 
who  never  forgot  to  take  his  collection  with 
him.  He  was  a  member  of  the  church  and 
felt  that  he  was  part  of  it,  and  so  he  had  his 
envelope  for  his  weekly  offering  just  as  his 
father  had,  and  he  never  would  go  to  church 
unless  he  had  it  with  him. 

One  day  when  his  father  and  mother  were 
absent  he  went  to  church  alone,  but  not  with- 
out his  offering.  He  had  it  in  his  little  white 
envelope,  which  he  carried  in  his  pocket. 
That  morning  a  strange  lady  sat  at  the  head 
of  the  seat  in  the  same  pew,  and  when  the  time 
came  for  the  offering  to  be  given  she  looked 
in  her  bag  and  found  that  she  had  no  money 
with  her.  She  didn't  seem  to  be  troubled 
about  it,  but  the  little  boy  was  greatly  troubled 
and  wondered  what  she  would  do  when  the 
men  came  with  the  plates  to  receive  the  offer- 
ing and  she  had  none  to  give.  You  see  he 
had  formed  the  habit  of  giving  and  enjoyed 
it  and  wondered  how  anybody  could  go  to 
171 


172  Children's  Story-Sermons 

church  without  a  gift.  Well,  he  got  more 
troubled  and  anxious  and  nervous  the  nearer 
and  nearer  the  ushers  came  with  the  collec- 
tion plates,  and  when  they  came  to  the  seat 
in  front  of  the  one  where  he  was  sitting  he 
held  out  his  little  white  envelope  to  the 
strange  lady,  and  said  to  her :  "  Here.  You 
take  this  and  put  it  in  the  plate,  and  Til  get 
under  the  seat.  I'm  small  and  they  won't 
see  me."  That  boy  had  formed  a  habit  of 
giving  and  when  he  grows  to  be  a  man  it 
will  be  part  of  his  life  and  part  of  his  religion 
to  give  his  gifts  unto  the  Lord.  1  think  that 
every  boy,  no  matter  how  small,  ought  to 
give  some  of  his  money — however  littie  it 
may  be — ^to  God. 


LXVl 
Only  a  Boy      y^ 

I  WANT  to  tell  you  a  story  about  a  boy  and 
a  preacher.  The  boy's  name  was  Robert, 
but  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  heard  the 
preacher's  name.  You  know  preachers  are 
soon  forgotten,  but  some  of  the  boys  they 
help  make  into  men  are  often  remembered. 

This  boy  lived  in  Scotland.  When  he  was 
a  little  lad  he  gave  his  heart  to  Jesus,  and 
although  he  seemed  too  young  to  join  the 
church,  his  pastor  encouraged  him  and  he 
openly  confessed  that  Jesus  was  his  Saviour. 
He  was  the  only  one  during  all  that  year  who 
united  with  the  church.  He  was  only  a  boy 
and  the  officers  of  the  church  thought  that 
their  pastor  was  not  succeeding  very  well, 
and  one  of  them  came  to  him  before  the 
morning  service  and  told  him  that  there 
must  be  something  wrong  about  his  preach- 
ing, for  only  one  person  during  a  whole  year 
had  made  a  confession  of  Christ,  and  that 
one  was  only  a  boy. 

You  can  guess  with  what  a  heavy  heart 
the  poor  minister  preached  that  morning  and 
173 


174  Children's  Story-Sermons 

how  before  he  closed  his  sermon  the  tears 
were  in  his  eyes,  and  he  was  wishing  that  his 
work  was  done  and  his  preaching  at  an  end. 
After  the  service  he  stayed  in  the  church 
alone,  when  every  one  was  gone,  thinking 
over  his  ministry  and  wondering  why  he  had 
failed  so  sadly.  He  did  not  notice  the  door 
open  and  a  little  boy  come  timidly  up  the 
aisle,  and  he  was  startled  when  he  felt  a 
little  hand  touch  his.  **  Well,  Robert,"  said 
the  minister,  "what  are  you  doing  here?" 
The  boy  hesitated,  but  at  last  said,  **  Do  you 
think  if  I  were  willing  to  work  hard  I  could 
become  a  preacher?"  **A  preacher!"  said 
the  minister.  **  Yes,"  said  the  boy.  "  Per- 
haps a  missionary."  There  was  a  long 
silence,  and  then  the  old  minister  through 
his  tears  said  :  **  May  God  bless  you,  my 
boy.  Yes,  I  think  you  can  become  a 
preacher." 

Years  passed  away,  and  the  boy  grew  to 
manhood  and  became  a  preacher,  and,  after 
the  wish  of  his  own  heart,  became  a  mission- 
ary, and  went  down  into  South  Africa  and 
laboured  long  and  well  among  the  black 
people  of  that  dark  continent,  winning  hun- 
dreds of  them  to  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  and 
bringing  in  a  new  day  for  that  dark  land. 
To-day  everybody  knows  the  name  of  Robert 


Only  a  Boy  175 

Moffatt,  who  gave  his  heart  to  Jesus  under 
the  ministry  of  a  man  who  thought  his  life 
was  a  failure. 

I  would  rather  win  one  boy  for  the  gospel 
ministry  than  to  win  the  greatest  success  in  life. 
Perhaps  some  boy  here  will  think  about  it 


LXVII 

Worth  Twelve  Hundred  Dollars 

My  story  for  you  this  morning  is  about  a 
little  slave  girl.  She  was  twelve  or  thirteen 
years  old.  Not  a  white  girl,  but  a  little  black 
girl  with  dark  eyes  and  dark  face  and  dark, 
kinky  hair.  It  was  during  the  war  days 
about  fifty  years  ago,  when  some  people  used 
to  sell  girls  and  boys  and  men  and  women 
just  as  cattle  and  sheep  and  pigs  and  chick- 
ens are  sold  nowadays. 

This  little  girl  had  been  sold  into  slavery 
and  taken  to  the  beautiful  city  of  Brooklyn. 
In  that  city  there  was  a  very  great  preacher, 
a  man  whom  everybody  loved,  and  he  was 
very  angry  with  the  people  who  bought  and 
sold  men  and  women  and  little  children. 
Somehow  or  other  he  heard  about  this  little 
black  girl,  and  without  telling  anybody  what 
he  was  going  to  do,  just  before  he  preached 
his  sermon  one  Sunday  morning,  he  brought 
her  up  into  the  pulpit  and  stood  her  on  a 
chair  where  everybody  could  see  her.  He 
said  she  was  worth  twelve  hundred  dol- 
176 


Worth  Twelve  Hundred  Dollars    177 

lars,  and  then  he  sat  down.  You  know, 
of  course,  what  he  meant.  He  meant  that 
if  he  could  get  twelve  hundred  dollars  he 
could  give  it  to  the  man  who  owned  her  and 
then  she  would  be  free.  Just  think  what  that 
means  !  She  was  a  slave,  and  not  until  the 
money  was  paid  could  she  be  free.  When  Mr. 
Beecher  sat  down,  the  officers  of  the  church 
arose  and  began  to  take  up  the  collection  right 
away.  Men  put  all  the  money  they  had  in  the 
plates,  women  took  off  their  jewelry  and  put  it 
there  also,  and  two  men  said  that  if  there  was 
not  enough  money  in  the  collection  plates  they 
would  make  up  the  balance.  Then  she  was 
free  1  Don't  you  think  she  was  happy  ?  You 
know  all  the  black  boys  and  girls  in  our 
country  who  were  slaves  were  made  free 
after  the  great  war  when  brave  men  and 
women  gave  their  money  and  their  lives  to 
make  them  free.  Whenever  you  see  a 
coloured  boy  or  girl,  think  what  it  cost  to 
give  them  freedom,  and  think  how  glad  we 
all  ought  to  be  that  there  is  no  more  slavery. 
Remember  too  that  there  is  another  kind 
of  slavery — the  slavery  of  sin,  and  that  it  is 
worse  than  the  old  time  slavery.  Jesus 
gave  Himself  for  us  that  we  might  be  free, 
and  we  read  in  the  Bible  that  we  have  been 
bought   with   a  price,   **  Not  with   silver  or 


178  Children's  Story-Sermons 

gold,"  for  Jesus  Himself  loved  us  and  gave 
Himself  for  us.  He  has  bought  us  from  sin 
and  selfishness  and  made  us  free — free  to  do 
right  and  free  to  be  pure  and  true  and  kind. 


LXVIII 
The  King's  Horses 

Every  one,  I  am  sure,  has  heard  about 
"  the  king's  horses."  I  am  not  so  sure  that 
every  one  has  heard  of  the  king  and  the 
horses  about  which  I  am  going  to  tell.  First, 
I  must  tell  you  the  story  and  then  I  shall 
have  to  preach  the  sermon.  But  just  a  little 
bit  of  a  sermon. 

It  was  far  away  over  the  sea  in  the  country 
called  Sweden,  where  there  are  beautiful  hills 
and  splendid  steep  roads  and  cozy  little  towns 
nestling  in  the  hillsides.  You  know,  per- 
haps, that  when  the  horses  get  tired  in  those 
old  countries  where  they  still  travel  over  the 
high  hills  and  through  the  deep  valleys  in 
stage-coaches,  the  driver  stops  at  a  wayside 
inn  or  tavern  and  changes  for  fresh  horses, 
and  so  drives  faster  because  he  does  not  need 
to  wait  until  the  horses  rest.  One  day  a 
purse-proud  old  nobleman  stopped  at  a  little 
inn,  and  seeing  the  landlord,  called  out  in  a 
gruff,  harsh  voice,  "  Horses,  landlord ;  horses 
at  once."  The  landlord  said  he  was  sorry  he 
had  no  fresh  horses,  and  that  the  nobleman 
179 


l8o  Children's  Story-Sermons 

would  have  to  wait  until  the  horses  rested. 
Just  then  a  fine  pair  of  beautiful  fresh  horses 
were  brought  out  of  the  stable  and  hitched  to 
a  carriage  in  which  a  quiet  little  gentleman 
was  waiting.  *•  For  whom  are  those  horses  ?  " 
said  the  nobleman  in  surprise.  "  I  thought 
you  said  there  were  no  fresh  horses  here." 
The  landlord  said  they  had  been  ordered  by 
the  gentleman  in  the  carriage  who  was  now 
getting  ready  to  start.  Then  the  pompous 
old  nobleman  called  out  to  the  slim,  silent  man 
in  the  other  carriage,  "  Say,  my  man,  let  me 
have  those  horses  and  I  will  pay  you  well  for 
them  I "  The  man  replied  that  he  needed 
them  himself  and  was  ready  to  start. 

The  nobleman  was  angry  and  spoke 
sharply,  "  Perhaps  you  don't  know  who  I  am. 
I  am  Field  Marshall  Baron  George  Sparre, 
the  last  and  only  one  of  my  race."  Then  the 
other  gentleman  spoke,  and  I  think  there  was 
a  smile  on  his  fine  face  as  he  said,  '*  I  am  glad 
of  that.  It  would  be  a  terrible  thing  to  think 
that  there  might  be  more  of  you  !  I  am  in- 
clined to  think  your  race  will  be  a  foot  race." 
In  another  moment  the  strange  gentleman 
was  gone.  When  he  had  departed,  the  land- 
lord turned  to  the  proud  old  nobleman  and 
said,  "There  goes  the  King  of  Sweden." 
He  had  been  speaking  to  his  own  king,  and 


The  King's  Horses  i8l 

you  can  guess  how  he  felt.  Now  comes  the 
sermon : 

First.     Don't  judge  by  appearances. 

Second.  Don't  judge  by  what  people  say 
about  themselves. 

Third.  Keep  sweet.  Be  kind.  Remem- 
ber that  you,  too,  have  a  King. 


# 


LXIX 
Thomas  Edison  and  Theodore 

Every  boy  and  girl  knows  who  Thomas 
Edison  is.  They  know  that  he  is  the  man 
who  works  so  much  with  electricity.  It  was 
he  who  made  the  talking  machines  and  so 
many  other  interesting  things.  He  was  once 
a  very  poor  boy,  but  is  now  one  of  the  most 
wonderful  men  in  the  world. 

His  work  was  so  hard  and  so  difficult  that 
he  used  to  work  every  day  in  the  week,  Sun- 
day the  same  as  Monday,  because  some  of 
his  inventions  seemed  to  require  that  he 
should  work  with  them  every  day.  But  he 
works  on  Sunday  no  longer,  and  I  want  to 
tell  you  the  reason.  He  has  a  little  boy 
named  Theodore.  One  day  Theodore  and 
his  mother  were  coming  down  the  street  on 
their  way  to  the  Baptist  Church  at  Llewellyn 
in  New  Jersey,  and  little  Theodore,  instead  of 
going  on  with  his  mother  as  usual,  went  into 
the  building  with  his  father  and  began  to 
work  at  his  own  little  experiments.  Mr. 
Edison  watched  him  for  a  while,  and  then  said 
to  him,  "You  must  not  work  on  Sunday, 
182 


Thomas  Edison  and  Theodore       183 

Teddy."  The  boy  lifted  his  bright  eyes  to 
his  father's,  and  quick  as  a  flash  said  :  "  But 
you  work  on  Sunday,  father.'*  Teddy's 
mother  had  been  waiting  on  him  to  go  with 
her  to  church,  expecting  to  leave  his  father  at 
his  work,  but  when  Teddy  said  those  words 
his  father  began  to  think  and  to  say  to  him- 
self, "  Yes,  that's  so.  I  do  work  on  Sunday, 
and  if  I  work  on  Sunday  of  course  I  can't  tell 
Teddy  not  to  work,  so  I  guess  I'd  better  quit." 
So  Mr.  Edison  put  away  his  green  bottles 
and  his  tall  jars  and  his  copper  wire,  and  went 
off  to  church  with  his  wife  and  little  son,  and 
from  that  day  to  this  the  door  of  the  work- 
shop remains  closed  on  Sunday. 

Now,  I  hardly  know  what  kind  of  a  sermon 
to  preach  from  this  story.  It  looks  as  if  it 
might  be  a  sermon  to  some  fathers  who  expect 
their  children  to  go  to  church  and  Sunday- 
school  while  they  stay  at  home,  or  go  to 
work.  Perhaps,  too,  it  is  a  sermon  to  little 
boys  and  girls  to  remember  the  Sabbath  day 
to  keep  it  holy  ;  and  perhaps  also  it  is  a 
sermon  as  to  the  way  in  which  a  little  child 
may  preach  a  really  great  sermon.  I  don't 
know  which  would  be  the  best  sermon,  and 
so  I'm  just  going  to  leave  you  to  choose  the 
one  you  yourself  think  is  best. 


LXX     ,-^^ 
The  Wonder  Ball 

(A  Christmas  Story) 

They  tell  us  that  over  in  Germany  the 
mothers  and  grandmothers  have  a  beautiful 
way  of  giving  a  Christmas  gift  to  the  children 
who  are  dearly  loved.  It  is  called  a  "  Wonder 
Ball,"  and  if  I  remember  rightly,  the  story  of 
the  **  Wonder  Ball  '*  is  something  like  this : 
On  Christmas  morning  the  girls  in  the  home 
are  presented  with  a  very  large,  uneven  ball 
of  yarn.  It  is  bigger  and  heavier  than  an 
ordinary  ball  of  yarn,  but  it  looks  like  yarn 
and  it  is  yarn — and  perhaps  something  more. 
The  girls  are  supposed  to  knit  the  yarn  into 
beautiful,  soft,  warm  mittens  or  stockings  for 
the  cold  days  of  winter,  but  they  must  not 
unwind  any  of  the  yarn  until  it  is  used  up  in 
the  knitting.  Well,  you  may  be  sure  they 
quickly  get  to  work,  and  their  fingers  fly  fast 
and  soon  the  yarn  is  being  unwound  and  the 
mittens  and  stockings  are  being  made ;  and 
then  suddenly  something  is  seen  that  is  not 
yarn,  and  when  it  is  freed  from  the  ball  and 
unwrapped  from  its  paper  covering  it  is  found 
184 


The  Wonder  Ball  185 

to  be  something  beautiful  which  mother  has 
placed  there  for  her  little  girl.  Perhaps  it  is  a 
brooch,  or  a  thimble.  And  then  the  knitting 
goes  on  and  something  else  .is  discovered — 
perhaps  a  locket  or  a  pin.  Then  something 
else  and  something  else  and  the  great  ball 
grows  more  and  more  interesting  and  magical 
as  it  becomes  smaller.  So  you  see  the  work 
of  knitting  is  all  play  and  full  of  surprise  until 
the  last  wind  of  the  ball  is  free,  and  lo  !  in 
the  very  centre  of  the  ball  there  is  some  little 
thing — perhaps  a  ring,  something  that  the 
little  lady  wanted  most  of  all — and  she  is  so 
glad.  Now  you  see  why  it  is  called  a  "  Won- 
der Ball."  And  as  the  weeks  and  the  years 
were  unwound  in  the  history  of  the  world 
there  were  many  beautiful  things  found  in  the 
great  ball,  which  is  made  up  of  the  world's 
years — and  then  in  the  very  heart  of  it — on 
Christmas  Day — the  first  Christmas  Day — 
what  a  discovery  was  made  I  There  in  the 
very  centre  of  everything  we  found  Jesus. 
And  when  God  made  your  little  life  and  mine. 
He  made  it  just  like  the  **  Wonder  Ball,"  and 
while  we  work  away  at  our  tasks — at  the 
very  end,  when  the  work  is  all  done — we  will 
find  something  which  God  put  there  Himself, 
and  it  will  be  the  very  thing  we  wanted  most 


LXXI 

Garibaldi  and  the  Lost  Lamb 

Did  you  ever  hear  the  name  of  Garibaldi  ? 
Do  you  know  anything  about  him  ?  Some 
day  when  you  visit  Lincoln  Park,  Chicago, 
you  can  see  a  beautiful  statue  of  him  on  a 
little  hillside  looking  out  over  the  lake. 

Garibaldi  was  one  of  the  greatest  soldiers 
and  leaders  of  men  that  the  world  has  ever 
known.  He  was  known  as  "  the  man  with 
the  red  shirt,'^  because  he  always  dressed  in 
a  red  flannel  shirt  and  of  course  looked  very 
rough  and  somewhat  untidy  ;  but  he  had  a 
tender  heart  just  the  same,  as  this  story  I  am 
going  to  tell  you  will  show.  It  was  he  who 
helped  Italy  to  become  a  free  nation.  One 
evening  while  he  was  in  camp  with  his  sol- 
diers, a  shepherd  who  had  lost  a  lamb  out 
of  his  flock  came  into  the  camp  in  great  dis- 
tress because  he  could  not  find  it.  Garibaldi, 
the  great  soldier,  was  much  interested  in  the 
poor  shepherd  and  in  the  poor  lost  lamb,  and 
ordered  some  of  his  soldiers  to  search  through 
the  mountains  and  hills  and  help  the  shepherd 
find  the  lost  lamb.  The  darkness  was  coming 
i86 


Garibaldi  and  the  Lost  Lamb       187 

on,  but  lanterns  were  lighted  and  a  great 
many  soldiers  turned  out  for  the  search.  It 
was  quite  a  new  thing  for  them  to  hunt  for  a 
lost  lamb,  and  they  were  glad  of  the  change 
and  sought  up  and  down  and  all  around 
wherever  they  thought  the  little  lamb  might 
be  foundj  but  it  was  all  in  vain,  and  one  by 
one  the  soldiers  came  back  to  camp,  put  out 
their  lights  and  went  to  bed.  Next  morning 
when  the  servant  of  the  general  went  to 
attend  to  the  wants  of  his  master,  he  found 
him  asleep  in  bed.  That  was  a  strange  thing 
for  him,  for  he  was  usually  up  earlier  than 
any  one  else  ;  but  remembering  that  Garibaldi 
too  had  searched  for  the  lost  lamb  in  the 
night,  he  knew  he  would  be  tired  and  so 
thought  it  best  not  to  wake  him.  But  before 
he  left  the  tent,  he  walked  over  to  the  bed, 
and  what  do  you  think  he  saw  there  in  the 
bed  with  his  general  ?  Now,  what  do  you 
think  he  saw  ?  I  wonder  if  you  could  guess  ? 
Well,  he  saw  a  little  lamb  1  It  was  the  little 
lost  lamb,  and  Garibaldi,  the  great  general  of 
Italy,  had  kept  up  the  search  through  the 
long  hours  of  darkness  after  the  soldiers  had 
failed,  and  had  found  it,  and  had  brought  it 
home  safely  in  his  arms,  and  it  had  slept  with 
him  in  his  own  bed. 

I  think  any  man  who  could  love  a  litde 


l88  Children's  Story-Sermons 

lamb  like  that  could  not  be  anything  but  a 
good  man.  Now  there  is  a  story  in  the  Bible 
something  like  that  story.  It  tells  us  of  the 
Good  Shepherd  who  went  out  to  find  a  little 
lost  lamb  that  had  wandered  into  the  moun- 
tains, and  He  searched  for  it  until  He  found  it, 
and  when  He  found  it  He  put  it  on  His  shoul- 
ders and  brought  it  home  rejoicing,  saying : 
"  Rejoice  with  Me.  I  have  found  the  sheep 
that  was  lost."  Jesus  is  our  Shepherd.  If 
we  wander  away  from  Him,  He  seeks  us  until 
He  finds  us.  There's  a  hymn  we  sometimes 
sing,  which  tells  the  same  story : 

"  The  shepherd  sought  his  sheep, 

The  father  sought  his  child  ; 
He  followed  me  o'er  field  and  hill, 

O'er  deserts  waste  and  wild. 
He  found  me  nigh  to  death, 

Famished  and  faint  and  lone, 
He  bound  me  with  the  bands  of  love, 

He  saved  the  wandering  one." 


LXXII 

An  Easter  Story 

Easter  Day  is  the  happiest  day  in  all  the 
year.  Perhaps  you  think  Christmas  Day  is 
the  happiest  day,  but  I  think  when  you  grow 
older  you  will  think  that  Easter  Day  is  the 
best  day  of  all  the  year. 

I  am  going  to  tell  you  an  Easter  story. 

It  happened  over  a  hundred  years  ago.  It 
was  in  a  country  in  Europe  called  Austria,  in 
a  very  little  town  called  Feldkirch.  It  was 
during  the  time  when  that  great  general  Na- 
poleon was  carrying  on  his  dreadful  wars,  and 
one  of  his  generals,  whose  name  was  Massena, 
came  one  Easter  Eve  to  capture  the  little 
town,  and  he  came  with  over  eighteen  thou- 
sand men.  When  the  sun  rose  the  people  of 
the  little  village  could  see  the  light  gleaming 
on  the  weapons  of  the  soldiers,  as  they  were 
scattered  on  the  hillside.  The  men  of  the 
town  decided  that  it  was  useless  for  them  to 
fight  or  to  try  to  defend  their  town,  and 
agreed  that  it  would  be  best  to  allow  the 
soldiers  to  enter  and  then  ask  for  mercy  at 
their  hands.  After  they  had  so  decided,  the 
189 


190  Children's  Story-Sermons 

minister  of  the  Httle  church  stood  up  and  said : 
**  This  is  Easter  Day.  It  is  the  day  of  the 
Lord's  resurrection.  It  is  a  day  for  joy,  and 
not  for  sorrow.  Let  the  bells  of  the  church 
ring  and  let  us  have  our  service  as  usual,  and 
perhaps  God  will  help  us  if  we  will  trust 
Him."  Some  of  the  people,  I  suppose, 
laughed  at  what  the  minister  said,  but  at  last 
they  agreed  that  the  church  service  should  be 
held,  and  so  the  bells  began  to  ring  out  their 
glad  music  to  tell  all  the  people  that  it  was 
Easter  Day.  The  soldiers  couldn't  under- 
stand what  it  all  meant.  They  saw  the  peo- 
ple going  through  the  streets  of  the  town  on 
their  way  to  the  church  and  heard  the  bells 
ringing  their  joyful  music,  and  they  began  to 
think  that  somehow  these  people  had  some 
reason  for  their  gladness,  that  perhaps  they 
had  a  great  body  of  soldiers  hidden  away, 
and  before  the  bells  stopped  ringing  the  sol- 
diers on  the  hillside  had  broken  up  their  camp 
and  departed. 

I  imagine  it  was  a  real  Easter  service  which 
was  held  in  that  litde  village  church  that  day. 
It  is  a  good  thing  to  ring  the  Easter-bells  of 
gladness  whenever  we  are  in  sorrow,  for  God 
is  with  us,  and  if  God  is  with  us  He  is  more 
than  all  those  that  are  against  us. 


LXXIII 
The  Children  of  a  King 

This  is  a  story  about  a  mother  and  a 
grandmother.  The  grandmother  was  a 
queen,  the  mother  was  a  princess — not  a 
fairy  princess,  but  a  real  live  princess.  The 
grandmother's  name  was  Queen  Alexandra, 
and  the  mother's  name  was  Princess  May. 
The  princess  is  now  the  queen,  and  they  call 
her  Queen  Mary.  Her  husband's  name  is 
George,  and  he  is  the  king  of  England.  Not 
George  III,  but  George  V.  They  have  six 
children  with  old-fashioned  names :  Edward 
Albert,  who  is  the  Prince  of  Wales  ;  Princess 
Victoria  Alexandra,  Prince  Henry  William, 
Prince  Albert  Frederick,  Prince  George  Ed- 
ward, and  little  five-year-old  Prince  John 
Charles. 

Some  years  ago  their  father  and  mother, 
who  were  then  the  Prince  and  Princess  of 
Wales,  started  on  a  long  trip  around  the 
world.  When  they  left  home  the  children 
were  given  strict  rules  to  follow,  certain 
things  to  do  and  certain  other  things  not  to 
do,  and  the  royal  nurses  were  commanded  to 
191 


192  Children's  Story-Sermons 

see  that  the  rules  were  strictly  obeyed.  After 
they  had  gone  their  grandmother  came  one 
day  to  see  them,  and  you  know  what  grand- 
mothers do  when  they  go  to  see  their  grand- 
children. Although  she  was  the  queen,  she 
was  still  their  grandmother,  and  she  brought 
the  children  a  nice  big  box  of  candy,  and  the 
children  danced  around  her  and  had  a  good 
time,  for  they  were  very  fond  of  her — and  also 
fond  of  candy.  So  she  opened  the  box  and 
it  looked  very  tempting,  but  all  of  a  sudden 
the  children  put  their  hands  behind  their 
backs  and  refused  to  take  any  of  the  bonbons, 
for  they  remembered  that  their  mother  had 
said  they  were  to  eat  no  candy  while  she  was 
gone.  The  queen  being  only  a  grandmother 
and  knowing  far  more  than  any  mother  could 
ever  know,  coaxed  and  coaxed  and  coaxed 
and  said  she  would  tell  their  mother  when 
she  came  back  and  that  it  would  be  all  right, 
but  not  one  of  the  children  would  touch  a 
single  piece,  and  the  queen  was  not  very 
well  pleased,  and  after  visiting  a  little  while 
with  them  she  left  the  box  of  candy  on  the 
nursery  table  and  went  back  to  her  own 
home. 

That's  the  way  grandmothers  do — they 
break  all  the  rules  the  children's  mothers 
make,  but  it  can't  be  helped.     Now,  what  do 


The  Children  of  a  King  193 

you  think  about  it  ?  Do  you  think  the  chil- 
dren ate  that  candy  ?  Do  you  think  you  would 
have  eaten  it  ?  Well,  those  royal  children 
left  that  box  of  candy  lying  on  the  table  for 
days  and  days  and  weeks,  and  it  was  shown 
to  their  mother  when  she  came  home.  Then 
they  all  laughed  about  it,  but  their  mother 
was  glad  that  her  children  had  obeyed  her. 
Obedience  is  the  best  thing  that  any  child 
can  learn.  Jesus  learned  it  when  He  was  a 
litde  boy,  for  we  read  that  in  His  home  at 
Nazareth  He  was  always  obedient  to  His 
parentSo 


LXXIV 

/ 

Dr.  Barnardo 

When  in  England  I  visited  the  great 
Barnardo  Homes,  where  boys  and  girls  of  the 
great  city  of  London  who  have  no  mothers 
and  fathers  are  given  a  place  to  sleep  and 
something  to  eat  and  are  cared  for  and 
taught,  and  then  are  sent  out  into  our  coun- 
try and  into  Canada,  where  homes  are  found 
for  them  and  they  are  given  a  chance  to 
grow  up  good  men  and  women.  When  I 
looked  at  the  great  building  and  the  many 
little  children  who  were  made  happy  there,  I 
thought  of  the  strange  way  in  which  God  led 
Dr.  Barnardo  to  start  such  a  great  work. 

He  was  just  a  young  man  working  in  one 
of  the  city  missions,  when  he  was  called  by 
God  to  his  life's  work.  One  night  before 
shutting  up  the  mission,  he  saw  a  poor  little 
ragged  urchin  standing  beside  the  stove, 
without  hat  or  shoes  or  stockings.  He  said 
to  the  boy,  "  Boy,  it  is  time  for  you  to  go 
home."  But  the  boy  never  moved  and  never 
answered,  and  a  second  time  Dr.  Barnardo 
said  to  him,  "  My  boy,  it  is  time  for  you  to 
194 


Dr.  Barnardo  195 

go  home."  Then  the  boy  said,  "  I  ain't  got 
no  home."  Dr.  Barnardo  scarcely  believed 
the  boy  and  asked  him  to  go  to  his  home 
with  him,  and  after  he  had  received  some- 
thing to  eat  the  boy  told  him  his  story.  He 
said  he  had  no  father  and  no  mother,  no  one 
to  care  for  him,  no  place  to  sleep  and  no  place 
to  go.  **Are  there  more  like  you?"  asked 
Dr.  Barnardo.  *'  Yes,  lots  of  them,"  said  the 
boy.  "  I'll  show  you  some  of  them  if  you  will 
come  with  me."  So  about  midnight  the 
doctor  and  the  boy  went  out  into  the  street, 
and  after  walking  down  a  dark  back  lane  the 
boy  pointed  to  a  kind  of  coal  bin  and  said, 
*'  There's  lots  of  them  in  there."  The  doctor 
stooped  down  and  lit  a  match,  but  there  was 
not  a  single  boy  there.  He  thought  the  boy 
was  fooling  him,  but  the  little  lad,  quite  un- 
afraid, said :  **  The  cops  have  been  after 
them.  They  are  up  on  the  roof."  So  the 
boy  led  the  doctor  up  to  a  tin-covered  roof, 
and  there  on  that  winter  night,  with  the  stars 
shining  overhead,  the  doctor  saw  thirteen  lit- 
tle boys  huddled  up  asleep,  one  little  fellow 
hugging  close  to  his  brother  to  keep  himself 
warm,  nothing  under  them  but  the  cold  tin 
roof  and  nothing  over  them  but  the  starlit 
sky.  The  boy  said  to  the  doctor,  *'  Shall  I 
wake  them  up  ?  "    The  doctor  was  about  to  say 


196  Children's  Story-Sermons 

**  Yes/'  and  then  remembered  that  he  had  one 
boy  and  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  him  ;  so 
what  could  he  do  with  fourteen?  And  he 
answered  *'  No."  But  that  night  out  on  the 
roof  Dr.  Barnardo  promised  God  that  he 
would  give  his  whole  life  to  making  a  home 
for  the  lost  boys  and  girls  of  London. 

That  was  his  first  night  with  the  boys. 
Last  night  there  slept  in  the  homes  provided 
for  them  by  this  Christian  doctor,  in  clean 
white  little  beds,  nearly  five  thousand  boys 
and  girls  who  were  gathered  off  the  streets  of 
the  great  city.  That  is  the  story  and  there  is 
no  sermon. 


LXXV 

Follow  the  Leader 

I  SUPPOSE  you  all  know  how  to  play  the 
game,  "  Follow  the  Leader."  I  have  a  story 
about  five  small  boys  who  had  an  exciting 
time  at  that  game.  They  lived  out  in  the 
west,  in  the  city  of  Seattle,  and  I  saw  the 
story  in  a  Western  newspaper.  They  were 
having  a  good  time  coming  down  the  street 
pell-mell,  when  one  of  the  boys,  the  leader, 
jumped  over  a  mail  box,  and  the  next  fol- 
lowed and  the  next,  but  I  expect  he  didn't 
make  it  very  well,  for  as  he  fell  the  mail  box 
fell  too  and  struck  a  stone  and  the  lock  broke, 
and  the  letters  were  scattered  all  over  the 
ground.  That  was  the  end  of  *'  Follow  the 
Leader "  for  a  while.  You  can  well  believe 
that  they  were  pretty  badly  frightened. 

What  do  you  think  they  did  ?  They  held 
a  little  confab  there  on  the  street  corner,  and 
decided  that  they  would  take  to  their  heels. 
Then  they  changed  their  minds,  and  decided 
to  write  a  note  and  explain  that  they  did  not 
mean  to  break  the  box,  and  this  they  did  and 
each  boy  signed  his  name,  and  the  letter  was 
put  in  the  box  with  the  other  letters  and  they 
left.  They  had  not  gone  far  before  one  of  the 
197 


198  Children's  Story-Sermons 

lads — the  smallest  lad  of  the  five — said,  "  I 
think  we'd  better  go  straight  to  the  post-office 
and  tell  just  what  happened,  or  we  may  get 
into  trouble."  You  see  they  were  scared  ;  and 
so  after  talking  it  over,  three  of  them  went 
off  to  tell  their  tale.  That  was  another  game 
of  "  Follow  the  Leader,'*  and  a  good  one  it 
was. 

When  they  reached  the  post-office  they 
would  talk  to  no  one  but  Postmaster  Russell 
himself,  and  so  were  ushered  into  his  private 
office.  The  postmaster  opened  his  eyes 
when  those  three  boys  marched  through  the 
door  on  to  his  plush  carpet,  I  can  tell  you. 
But  he  opened  his  eyes  still  wider  when  the 
smallest  lad  stepped  up  to  him  with  his  cap 
in  hand  and  said :  *'  Please,  sir,  we  done  it, 
'  and  we'll  take  what's  coming  to  us."  "  Done 
what?"  said  the  postmaster.  Then  the  lad 
told  him  that,  "  Him  and  him  and  me  and 
Beany  and  Scotty  were  playing  '  Follow  the 
Leader,' "  and  that  they  had  broken  open  the 
mail  box  at  the  corner  of  Thirteenth  Street 
and  Union,  and  that  they  had  first  decided 
to  run  away  and  then  had  written  a  letter, 
and  then  three  of  them  had  come  to  tell  him 
while  Beany  and  Scotty  guarded  the  box 
with  clubs. 

I  guess  you  know  just  how  that  postmaster 


Follow  the  Leader  199 

felt  when  he  heard  the  boys'  story,  and  how 
his  eyes  danced  and  what  he  told  them. 
They  went  away  far  happier  than  when  they 
came,  as  happy  as  kings,  following  the 
leader  who  called  back  to  his  chums  before 
they  were  well  out  of  the  door,  **  I  knew  they 
wouldn't  hang  us." 

When  the  broken  box  was  brought  to  the 
office,  they  found  the  letter  the  boys  had 
written  before  they  decided  to  take  their 
punishment,  and  this  was  what  it  said 

"Dear  Mister  Postmaster  : 

"  We  done  it,  but  we  didn't  go  to. 
**  Yours  truly, 

Henry    

Beany     

SCOTTY    

Louis     

George " 


I  am  sure  that  this  is  a  good  story,  and 
that  those  were  brave,  good,  honest  boys 
who  will  some  day  be  good,  brave,  honest 
men.  A  good  story  ought  to  have  a  good 
sermon,  and  here  it  is  : 

First :  Be  sure  you  follow  a  good  leader. 
Jesus  said  :  '*  Follow  Me." 

Second :  Never  be  afraid  to  do  what  is 
right. 

Third :  Confession  of  wrong  is  the  next 
best  thing  to  never  having  done  wrong. 


LXXVI 

Teeter-Totter 

I  SUPPOSE  none  of  you  ever  played  see- 
saw, or  as  it  is  sometimes  called  teeter- 
totter?  I  see  you  are  smiling.  Perhaps  I 
made  a  mistake  and  forgot  that  boys  and 
girls  are  playing  at  the  same  games  now  that 
their  fathers  and  mothers,  and  grandfathers 
and  grandmothers,  and  great-grandfathers 
and  great-grandmothers  played  in  the  good 
old  days  long,  long  ago.  It  is  a  great  game, 
this  teeter-totter,  and  it  is  a  good  deal  like 
the  bigger  game  of  life  which  all  of  us  are 
playing  at  in  the  big,  big  world.  But  I  fear 
this  is  a  sermon  I  am  preaching,  and  I  began 
to  tell  a  story. 

Not  very  long  ago  I  heard  of  a  little  boy 
and  a  little  girl  who  loved  each  other  dearly, 
and  they  played  together  in  the  garden  where 
there  was  a  teeter  board.  One  day  the  nurse 
heard  the  little  boy  crying  as  if  his  heart 
would  break,  and  going  to  the  garden  she 
found  the  boy  lying  with  his  face  in  the  grass, 
and  his  little  companion  sitting  wonderingly 
on  the  teeter  board.  After  he  could  find  his 
200 


Teeter-Totter  201 

voice,  the  little  fellow  wailed  out,  "  I  want  to 
go  up  when  she  goes  up,  and  I  want  to  go 
down  when  she  goes  down."  Was  he  not  a 
very  foolish  and  funny  little  fellow  ?  Of 
course,  he  could  never  do  what  he  wanted  to 
do.  He  could  only  go  up  when  she  went 
down,  and  down  when  she  went  up,  and  it 
didn't  matter  whether  he  cried  and  screamed 
until  the  end  of  the  world  ;  neither  his  nurse, 
nor  his  mother,  nor  the  queen  of  all  the 
fairies,  could  fix  it  the  way  he  wanted  it  to  be. 
Now,  there  is  more  than  one  sermon  in 
that  story.  We  sometimes  have  to  go  down 
so  that  other  people  may  go  up.  Our  fathers 
and  mothers  have  worked  and  prayed  and 
suffered  that  we  might  be  saved  from  many 
things  from  which  they  were  not  saved.  In 
the  Bible  we  read  about  Jonathan,  the  prince, 
the  friend  of  David,  who  gave  up  his  right 
to  be  king  so  that  David,  his  friend,  might 
wear  the  crown  and  sit  on  the  throne.  Jona- 
than was  happy  to  think  that  by  his  going 
down  his  friend  would  go  up.  It  is  very 
interesting  to  think  about,  and  it  is  so 
splendid  to  feel  that  it  may  be  just  like  the 
game  of  teeter-totter,  such  real  good  fun, 
and  they  are  only  foolish  people  who  cannot 
have  joy  in  other  people's  happiness.  Jesus 
carried  a  cross  that  you  and  I  might  wear  a 


202  Children's  Story-Sermons 

crown,  and  we  too  will  find  peace,  and  joy, 
and  happiness  in  the  same  way.  Did  you 
ever  hear  these  beautiful  verses  that  tell 
this  same  story  and  preach  this  same  ser- 
mon : 

*'  Christ,  when  a  child,  a  garden  made, 
And  many  roses  flourished  there ; 
He  watered  them  three  times  a  day, 
To  make  a  garland  for  His  hair ; 

"  And  when  in  time  the  roses  bloomed, 
He  called  the  children  in  to  share ; 
They  tore  the  flowers  from  every  stem, 
And  left  the  garden  stripped  and  bare ; 

*'  '  How  wilt  Thou  weave  Thyself  a  crown, 
Now  that  Thy  roses  are  all  dead  ?  ' 
*  You  have  forgotten  that  the  thorns 

Are  left  for  me,'  the  Christ-child  said; 

"  They  plaited  Him  a  crown  of  thorns, 
And  laid  it  rudely  on  His  head  ; 
A  garland  for  His  forehead  made. 
For  roses,  drops  of  blood  instead/* 


LXXVII 

The  Dark  Tunnel 

You  all  know  what  a  tunnel  is.  It  is  a 
road  made  under  the  ground.  Sometimes 
it  is  made  under  a  mountain,  through  cold, 
hard  rock,  so  that  people  and  trains  can 
travel  through  it,  and  sometimes  it  is  made 
under  the  water.  The  greatest  tunnels  under 
the  mountains  are,  I  suppose,  in  Italy  and 
Switzerland,  where  the  railroads  run  through 
dark  tunnels,  ten  and  twelve  miles  long. 
In  our  country,  the  most  interesting  tunnels 
are  under  the  water.  If  you  travel  some  time 
to  New  York  City,  perhaps  you  will  go 
through  one  of  these  tunnels.  It  is  under 
the  Hudson  River,  and  is  one  of  the  most 
interesting  tunnels  in  the  world.  There  is 
another  one  under  the  Saint  Clair  River,  just 
at  the  lower  end  of  Lake  Huron,  between 
Port  Huron  and  Sarnia,  where  we  travel 
from  the  United  States  to  Canada.  The 
other  day  I  passed  through  that  long,  dark 
tunnel,  and  I  was  much  interested  in  it.  It 
is  over  a  mile  long,  and  is  deep  and  dark 
and  damp. 

203 


204  Children's  Story-Sermons 

When  I  first  went  through  it  years  ago, 
it  was  not  so  interesting.  The  doors  and 
windows  of  the  cars  were  closely  fastened, 
and  even  then  the  smoke  and  the  fumes  from 
the  engine  came  in  and  it  was  really  a  very 
dreadful  and  unhappy  experience.  It  would 
almost  send  you  to  sleep  in  the  daytime, 
and  always  wake  you  out  of  your  sleep  at 
night.  Not  very  long  ago  a  train  that  was 
passing  through  the  tunnel  broke  down  in 
it,  and  several  people  died  there  in  the  smoke 
and  the  fumes  and  the  darkness.  There  is 
no  chance  of  that  happening  again,  for  now 
all  is  different.  Instead  of  a  big,  black, 
smoking  engine,  there  is  a  wonderful  electric 
motor  which  pulls  the  train  through  clean 
fresh  air,  with  the  doors  and  the  windows  of 
the  cars  all  open  and  the  lights  in  the  tunnel 
burning  clear  and  bright. 

I  wonder  if  the  tunnel  can  preach  the  same 
sermon  to  you  as  it  did  to  me.  Life,  you 
know,  has  many  deep,  dark  tunnels.  People 
long,  long  ago,  and  many  even  now,  have 
been  afraid  in  the  darkness,  and  some  have 
perished  in  it  through  lack  of  help  and  hope. 
But  things  have  changed.  Jesus  has  come 
and  He  has  brought  into  the  world  a  great 
light. 

There  is  also  another  lesson  I  would  like 


The  Dark  Tunnel  205 

you  to  learn  from  this  dark  tunnel.  You 
know  when  "you  pass  through  it  you  are  in 
another  country.  You  leave  Canada,  and 
when  you  pass  the  tunnel  you  are  in  the 
United  States,  or  you  leave  the  United  States 
and  pass  through  into  Canada,  where  you 
see  another  flag  flying.  This  is  what  is  called 
the  "  border,"  and  you  see  a  great  deal  of 
fussiness  and  anxiety.  People  are  exajnined 
there.  Officers  examine  and  inspect  them, 
and  examine  and  inspect  their  trunks  and 
grips,  and  bags  and  baskets,  to  see  if  they 
should  be  permitted  to  enter  into  the  country. 
It  is  not  a  very  pleasant  experience,  but  for 
people  who  do  not  need  to  be  examined  it  is 
not  at  all  unpleasant.  And  really  things  are 
not  much  difTerent,  and  if  you  passed  through 
in  the  night  perhaps  you  would  scarcely 
know  that  you  had  crossed  over  into  another 
country.  There  is  the  same  sky,  the  same 
sun,  the  same  air,  the  grass  is  the  same  colour 
and  the  trees  have  the  same  kind  of  leaves 
and  the  same  kind  of  fruit,  and  the  people 
speak  the  same  language.  We  are  often  told 
that  when  we  go  through  the  dark  tunnel 
which  is  called  death,  things  will  be  all  so 
different,  everything  will  be  so  strange  and 
we  will  be  in  a  new  world.  Well,  I  don't 
know.     Perhaps  things  will  not  be  so  differ- 


2o6  Children's  Story-Sermons 

ent  after  all.  We'll  have  the  same  God  and 
the  same  Saviour,  and  the  same  friends,  and 
we  will  speak  the  same  language  as  we  do 
now.  Those  who  love  the  Lord  Jesus  are 
travelling  over  the  King's  Highway,  and  are 
not  alone,  for  the  dear  Master  is  with  them, 
and  where  He  is,  there  is  light  and  joy  and 
love  and  heaven. 


LXXVIII 

The  Three  Johns 

Here  is  a  boy  whose  name  is  John.  Here 
is  another  boy  whose  name  is  Thomas. 
When  they  talk  together,  there  are  six  per- 
sons talking.  At  least  so  a  great  man  once 
said  who  wrote  a  great  book,  which  I  hope 
you  will  some  day  read.  The  great  man's 
name  was  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  and  he 
said  a  great  many  wise  things.  But,  you  say, 
if  he  said  that  when  John  and  Thomas  talked 
together  there  were  six  persons  talking,  then 
he  surely  said  some  things  that  were  not  wise, 
but  very,  very  foolish.  Well,  let  us  see.  He 
said  that  in  John  there  were  three  Johns,  and 
that  in  Thomas  there  were  three  Thomases, 
and  I  think  what  he  said  was  quite  true,  and 
that  it  was  true  not  only  of  the  John  and  the 
Thomas  of  whom  he  was  speaking,  but  it  is 
true  of  all  the  boys  and  all  the  girls  in  all  the 
world,  no  matter  what  their  names  may  be. 
First,  to  speak  only  of  John,  there  is  John 
No.  I.  He  is  the  John  he  thinks  himself  to 
be.  You  know  almost  every  one  has  a  good 
opinion  of  himself,  and  John  No.  i  is  a  most 
207 


2o8  Children's  Story-Sermons 

capable,  first-class  fellow.  John  No.  i  says,  **  I 
am  not  as  other  boys  are."  That  is  to  say,  "  I 
am  better.'^  John  No.  2  is  the  John  that  other 
people  know.  He  is  a  different  John.  If  he 
heard  people  talking  about  him,  he  would 
not  know  himself.  He  would  think  they 
were  talking  about  Nebuchadnezzar,  King  of 
the  Jews,  or  some  one  else  equally  unknown 
to  him.  Judas,  for  instance,  thought  himself 
a  smart  man,  but  Peter  knew  that  Judas  was 
a  thief.  Peter  thought  he  was  a  brave  man, 
but  John  knew  that  Peter  was  a  coward.  So 
you  see  there  really  are  at  least  two  Johns. 
But  there  are  more  than  two  Johns.  There 
are  three  Johns,  and  John  No.  3  is  the  real 
John,  the  John  that  God  knows.  John  may 
be  mistaken  about  himself,  and  John's  friends 
may  be  mistaken  about  him,  but  God  knows 
John  through  and  through. 

But  that  is  not  all  of  the  story.  When 
John  heard  the  wise  man  say  these  things  he 
laughed  all  to  himself,  and  when  in  a  litde 
while  the  peaches  were  passed  around — for 
all  this  happened  at  the  breakfast  table- 
there  were  only  three  and  so  John  took  all 
three.  One  for  John  No.  i,  one  for  John  No. 
2,  and  one  for  John  No.  3.  You  see  he  be- 
lieved what  the  wise  man  said. 

God  wants  us  so  to  live  that  John  No.  i 


The  Three  Johns  209 

will  be  like  John  No.  2,  and  that  both  John 
No.  I  and  John  No.  2  may  be  like  John  No. 
3.  Jesus  came  to  make  all  these  three  one. 
He  can  help  us  to  think  about  ourselves 
wisely  and  truly,  and  not  to  think  of  our- 
selves better  or  worse  than  we  ought  to  think. 
He  will  help  us  to  live  so  that  other  people 
will  not  be  mistaken  about  us  and  think  of  us 
wrongly.  Then,  too,  He  will  show  us  just 
what  God  thinks  about  us,  and  that  will  help 
us  to  know  ourselves  and  see  ourselves  as  we 
ought.  God  always  sees  us  at  our  best,  and 
our  real  self — the  self  God  knows  about  and 
sees  and  loves — will  then  become  as  it  were 
the  only  real  John  and  will  master  and  con- 
trol the  other  Johns. 


LXXIX 

Sewing  Without  Thread 

I  SUPPOSE  I  ought  to  say  right  now  that 
this  story  is  not  for  boys.  It  is  for  girls.  The 
sermon  that  follows  the  story  may  be  for  both 
boys  and  girls,  but  the  story  itself  is  for  girls 
only  and  so  the  boys  do  not  need  to  listen. 
It  is  for  girls  who  like  to  sew,  and  for  little 
girls  who  like  to  sew  on  their  mother's  sew- 
ing-machine. I  heard  the  other  day  of  just 
such  a  little  girl,  who  whenever  she  got  the 
chance,  tried  to  make  her  mother's  machine 
**  go.'*  One  day  she  said,  "  I  like  to  sew  on 
the  machine  when  there  is  no  thread  in  it,  for 
then  it  goes  so  much  easier.''  Now  both  girls 
and  boys  and  men  and  women  like  to  do  just 
that  same  thing.  They  like  to  do  easy  things. 
They  like  to  make  the  wheels  go  round  with- 
out driving  anything,  or  without  making  any- 
thing. To  sew  without  thread  is  only  play, 
and  a  sewing-machine  is  to  work  with,  not  to 
play  with.  Every  time  a  boy  wants  to  go  to 
school  but  does  not  want  to  study,  he  wants 
to  sew  without  thread.  Every  time  a  boy 
goes  to  Sunday-school,  and  wants  to   busy 

2IO 


Sewing  Without  Thread  211 

himself  with  toys  and  trinkets  and  things  and 
does  not  want  to  learn  the  lesson  his  teacher 
is  trying  to  teach  him,  he  wants  to  sew  with- 
out thread.  Every  time  a  girl  wants  to 
be  pretty  in  her  dress  and  her  hair  and  her 
clothes,  but  does  not  want  to  be  pretty  in  her 
thoughts  and  her  feelings  and  her  conduct, 
she  wants  to  sew  without  thread.  Every 
time  a  girl  wants  to  please  other  people  rather 
than  please  her  father  and  her  mother  and  her 
brothers  and  sisters,  she  wants  to  sew  without 
thread. 

And  men  and  women,  too,  are  just  as  fool- 
ish as  the  little  lady  who  liked  to  sew  without 
thread,  when  they  think  they  can  give  their 
children  everything  money  can  buy,  books 
and  music,  and  pleasures  and  horses  and 
automobiles,  and  neglect  to  give  them  the 
friendship  of  Jesus  and  the  secret  of  a  happy 
Christian  life. 


LXXX 

The  Boy  Who  Promised 

The  other  day  I  was  visiting  a  business 
man  in  his  office,  and  he  told  me  a  story 
about  his  father.  We  were  talking  about 
boys  and  girls,  and  their  interest  in  the 
story-sermons  at  the  regular  church  serv- 
ices. He  said  that  his  father  when  a  boy  lived 
with  his  uncle,  who  was  one  of  those  good  men 
who  was  so  good  that  he  made  other  people 
want  to  be  bad.  He  was  one  of  those  hard,  just 
men  who  was  all  justice  with  little  mercy,  and 
all  duty  with  little  delight,  and  all  goodness 
with  little  gladness.  So  when  the  boy,  who 
lived  with  him,  grew  to  be  a  young  man  and 
was  ready  to  take  care  of  himself,  and  didn't 
need  to  obey  his  uncle  any  more — he  said  to 
him  one  day,  *'  Well,  uncle,  I'm  my  own  boss 
now,  and  there  are  three  things  I  am  going 
to  do  all  the  rest  of  my  life  : 

**  First :  Every  day  in  winter  I  am  going 
skating. 

"  Second :  Every  day  in  summer  I  am  go- 
ing swimming. 

212 


The  Boy  Who  Promised  213 

"  Third :  I  am  never  going  to  church 
again." 

Of  course  these  three  things,  and  especially 
the  last,  nearly  took  his  uncle's  breath  away. 
But  he  said  nothing.  That  boy  is  a  man 
now,  and  the  strange  thing  about  the  story 
is  that  he  never  did  one  of  the  three  things 
he  planned  to  do. 

He  didn't  go  skating  every  day  in  winter, 
because  every  one  knows  he  couldn't  do  that, 
for  there  are  some  winter  days  when  there  is 
no  skating. 

He  never  went  swimming  every  summer 
day,  because  every  one  knows  he  couldn't  do 
that,  for  there  are  some  summer  days  when 
the  water  is  as  cold  as  Greenland. 

He  never  stayed  away  from  church  every 
Sunday,  because  every  one  knows  he  couldn't 
do  that,  for  he  had  been  trained  to  go  when 
he  was  a  boy,  and  he  couldn't  break  with  his 
early  habit. 

Not  only  did  he  go  to  church,  but  when  he 
grew  to  be  a  man  he  took  his  children  to 
church,  and  one  of  them  became  a  minister 
of  the  Gospel,  and  is  in  heaven  now,  and  an- 
other one  is  sitting  here  in  the  church  this 
morning  and  is  wondering  perhaps  if  I  am 
going  to  tell  you  his  name.  But  I'll  not  tell. 
There  is  something  else,  however,  I  will  tell. 


2 1 4  Children's  Story-Sermons 

I  would  like  to  tell  all  boys  and  girls  not  to 
make  rash  promises  that  they  cannot  and 
should  not  keep.  Then  I  would  like  to  tell 
all  boys  and  girls  that  the  habits  which  are 
formed  when  they  are  boys  and  girls  will  stay 
with  them  when  they  are  men  and  women. 
Habits  are  formed  in  our  lives  like  tracks  are 
made  in  the  snow.  This  brain  of  ours  when 
we  are  young  is  just  like  pure,  white,  feath- 
ery snow.  The  first  time  we  say  or  do  some- 
thing there  is  a  little  track  made.  The  sec- 
ond time  we  do  it,  there  is  a  clearer  track 
made.  When  we  repeat  it  ten,  or  twenty,  or 
a  hundred  times,  it  is  beaten  hard  and  firm, 
and  that's  the  way  it  stays.  Good  habits, 
and  bad  habits,  all  make  beaten  tracks  that 
stay  through  life. 

Sow  a  thought, 

And  you  reap  an  act ; 

Sow  an  act. 

And  you  reap  a  habit ; 

Sow  a  habit, 

And  you  reap  a  character ; 

Sow  a  character, 

And  you  reap  a  destiny. 


LXXXI 
The  Boy  Scout 

When  in  Canada  last  summer  I  met  a 
little  friend  who  was  dressed  something  like 
a  soldier.  He  was  only  about  eleven  years 
old,  and  I  said  to  him,  "  Why,  Willie,  how 
does  it  come  that  you  are  a  soldier?  "  "  Fm 
not  a  soldier,"  he  said  with  manly  pride. 
•*  I'm  a  scout."  And  sure  enough,  that's  just 
what  he  was,  with  his  soldier-like  suit  and 
his  straight  staff.  He  belonged  to  the  great 
company  of  boy  scouts — not  war  scouts,  but 
peace  scouts — which  is  being  organized  all 
over  the  world.  Of  course  you  know  what 
a  scout  is. 

A  scout  is  taught  to  be  manly,  to  serve  his 
country,  to  love  God  and  to  do  a  good  turn 
every  day.  To  make  him  remember  to  do 
the  good  turn,  he  wears  a  knot  in  his  necktie. 
If  you  see  a  boy  with  a  knot  in  his  necktie, 
do  not  think  he  is  careless,  for  it  may  be  he's 
a  scout  and  wants  to  remember  his  vow  to  be 
kind.  A  scout  is  taught  to  know  weather 
signs,  to  find  his  way  at  night  by  the  stars, 
to  track  men  and  animals,  to  hide  himself,  to 
"5 


2l6  Children's  Story-Sermons 

signal  across  water  and  from  hilltops,  to  tie 
knots  in  ropes,  to  make  tents  and  fires  and 
camp  beds,  to  sleep  in  the  open  air,  to  read 
character  from  people's  shoes  and  hats  and 
faces,  to  know  the  ways  and  calls  of  the  birds 
and  the  wild  game,  to  distinguish  leaves  and 
flowers  and  fruits.  He  is  taught  to  exercise 
and  take  care  of  himself,  to  rescue  others 
from  drowning  or  from  fire,  to  care  for  the 
wounded  and  the  sick,  to  be  kind  to  women 
and  little  children  and  old  people,  to  do  a 
kind  act  every  day  and  take  no  reward. 

The  motto  of  all  the  scouts  is,  **  Be  Pre- 
pared." It  is  a  good  motto.  Be  ready  to 
take  care  of  yourselves,  to  help  others,  to 
serve  your  country,  to  do  God's  will.  If  you 
are  going  to  do  the  world's  work,  you  must 
have  steady  nerves  and  strong  muscles.  If 
you  are  going  to  take  your  part  in  the  battle 
for  peace  and  purity,  you  must  have  educated 
brains  and  trained  minds.  If  you  are  going 
to  help  God  make  the  world  better,  you  must 
fit  yourself  for  service  and  be  ready  when  He 
calls.  Jesus  was  thirty  years  getting  ready  to 
do  three  years'  work. 

You  have  heard  perhaps  of  the  boy  who 
dreamed  such  a  strange  dream.  He  dreamed 
that  the  rich  man,  the  only  rich  man  in  his 
little  town,  came  to  him  and  said  he  was  tired 


The  Boy  Scout  217 

of  his  fine  houses  and  horses,  and  he  wanted 
the  Httle  lad  to  take  his  place.  Then  the  old 
doctor  came  to  him  and  said  he  was  tired 
going  up  and  down  the  streets  caring  for  the 
sick,  and  he  wanted  him  to  be  ready  to  be- 
come the  town  physician.  Then  the  judge 
came  to  him  and  said  he  was  tired  trying 
cases  and  going  to  court,  and  he  wanted 
some  one  to  take  his  place  on  the  bench. 

Then  the  town  drunkard  came,  the  old 
man  who  was  the  shame  of  the  village,  and 
said  to  him  that  he  could  not  live  much 
longer,  and  he  wanted  him  to  take  his  place 
in  the  saloons  and  on  the  streets.  What  a 
dream  that  was  !  And  yet  it  could  easily  be 
a  true  dream.  The  places  which  doctors  and 
lawyers  and  ministers  and  business  men  hold 
to-day  will  some  time  be  filled  by  others — by 
the  boys  of  to-day.  See  to  it  that  you  do  not 
waste  your  play-days,  but  get  a  strong  body 
while  you  are  a  boy.  Don't  waste  your 
school-days,  but  get  a  strong  mind  before  it 
is  too  late.  Don't  waste  your  church  and  Sun- 
day-school days,  but  get  ready  a  strong  heart 
and  conscience  and  character  so  that  you  will 
be  ready  when  God  calls  you.  God  will 
surely  call  you.  Do  not  be  afraid  of  that. 
Only  be  sure  you  are  ready  when  He  does 
call.     "  Be  Prepared." 


LXXXII 

The  Sunday  Engine 

I  WONDER  which  day  of  the  week  you  like 
best.  You  know  there  are  seven  days  in 
every  week  :  Monday,  Tuesday,  Wednesday, 
Thursday,  Friday,  Saturday  and  Sunday. 
I  wonder  which  one  of  the  seven  is  your  best 
day.  For  most  boys  and  girls  the  week  is 
divided  into  three  parts — Saturday,  of  course, 
is  a  day  when  boys  and  girls  catch  up  with 
their  play  and  their  important  work  ;  Sunday 
stands  all  alone  by  itself  in  a  sort  of  glass  case 
for  them  to  look  at,  for  many  boys  and  girls 
scarcely  know  what  to  do  with  it.  All  the 
other  days,  Monday,  Tuesday,  Wednesday, 
Thursday,  Friday  are  school-days,  and  can 
be  tied  up  in  a  bundle  and  sold  at  a  bargain. 
I  am  quite  curious  to  know  which  day  you 
like  the  best.  Could  you  guess  which  day  I 
would  like  you  to  call  your  best  day  ?  Well, 
I'll  tell  you,  for  I  think  you  could  not  guess. 
I  wish  that  every  day  was  your  best  day. 
You  thought  I  would  say  Sunday,  didn't 
you  ?  Well,  perhaps  that's  what  I  mean,  for  i! 
218 


The  Sunday  Engine  219 

Sunday  is  the  best  day  then  every  day  will  be 
a  best  day  too,  and  that  is  what  I  would  wish 
for  every  boy  and  girl.  People  who  make 
Sunday  a  day  for  picnics  and  holidays  and 
pleasure  parties  really  have  no  best  days  at  all. 

I  heard  the  other  day  about  a  little  girl 
nearly  six  years  old  who  thinks  Sunday  is 
the  very  best  day  in  the  week.  That  is  the 
day,  you  know,  when  she  wears  her  best 
dress  and  her  best  everything,  and  she  can 
go  to  Sunday-school  like  a  little  lady,  and 
her  father  is  home  all  day  and  in  the  after- 
noon tells  her  stories  and  becomes  her  own 
dear  chum.  Her  name  is  Wilhelmina.  Don't 
you  think  that  is  a  pretty  big  name  for  such 
a  little  girl  ?  One  Sunday  Wilhelmina  had 
had  such  a  good  time,  and  when  night  came 
and  her  mother  had  kissed  her  good-night, 
she  said  :  "  Mamma,  isn't  it  funny  how  the 
days  go  by,  one  after  the  other,  just  like  a 
train  of  cars,  with  Sunday  for  the  engine?" 

Why,  of  course.  Why  didn't  some  of  us 
grown-ups  think  of  that  before  ?  Sunday  is 
the  engine,  and  Monday,  Tuesday,  Wednes- 
day, Thursday,  Friday  and  Saturday  are  the 
cars,  and  all  together  they  make  up  the  vesti- 
bule train.  Be  sure  you  take  good  care  of 
the  engine  and  see  that  the  brass  is  kept  pol^ 
ished  and  the  fire  burning. 


220  Children's  Story-Sermons 

A  good  engine  makes  a  good  train,  and  a 
good  Sunday  makes  a  good  week.  I  want 
you  to  remember  a  little  verse  which  I  learned 
when  I  was  a  boy.  My  father  taught  it  to 
me-; 

"  A  Sabbath  well  spent 
Brings  a  week  of  content, 
And  joy  for  the  cares  of  to-morrow  ; 
But  a  Sabbath  profaned, 
Whatever  be  gained. 
Is  the  sure  forerunner  of  sorrow.** 


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